' 

J    V          :  I     I 


V 


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>  to&fauf 


MEMOIR 


OF 


HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN, 


TOGETHER   WITH 


FOUR  HISTORICAL  ORATIONS. 


EDITED  BY  J.  M.  HOPPIN, 

PEOFESSOK  IN   YALE   COLLEGE. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT    &    CO. 

LONDON:    16  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET,  COVENT  GARDEN. 

1880. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


Copyright,  1879,  by  JOSEPHINE  LEA  BROWN. 


PEEFAOE. 


POLITICAL  wisdom  fails  sometimes  to  perceive  and 
make  use  of  the  fact  that  the  spring  of  a  nation's  pro 
gress  is  in  its  youth's  fresh  ideas;  for  they  are  inspira 
tions  from  a  fountain  nearer  the  original  source  of  national 
life  than  the  profoundest  theories  of  scientific  statesman 
ship.  Youth's  radicalism  has  more  than  once  proved  to 
be  the  principle  of  the  rapid  advancement  of  a  people  in 
freedom  and  civilization. 

The  subject  of  the  following  memoir  possessed  elements 
of  greatness  worthy  of  the  best  days  of  the  republic.  A 
power  went  forth  from  his  short  life  (for  he  was  compara 
tively  a  young  man  when  he  died)  which  will  not  soon 
cease  to  be  felt.  It  was  an  influence  for  the  political  refor 
mation  of  the  land,  and  for  a  higher  standard  of  national 
character.  He  represented,  as  far  as  in  him  lay,  the  best 
modern  political  spirit.  Nobly  as  he  had  done,  there 
seemed  to  be  much  more  for  him  to  do.  Although  his 
life's  work  was  in  some  sense  complete,  he  had  not  yet 
attained  the  full  development  of  his  powers.  He  attracted 
the  eyes  of  men  by  his  splendid  promise.  His  life  had 
a  direction  toward  something  lofty,  rare,  and  beautiful, 

3 


4  PREFACE. 

and  which,  too,  was  all  unspent  when  it  suddenly  reached 
its  close.  The  star  was  still  ascending  when  the  darkness 
covered  it.  His  addresses  and  writings  will,  we  are  sure, 
do  much  to  perpetuate  his  name.  There  are  really  few 
things  in  our  historical  literature  superior  to  his  Carpenters' 
Hall,  Burlington  Bi-Centennial,  and  Valley  Forge  orations. 
But  the  fire  and  nobleness  of  his  delivery,  the  music  of  his 
voice,  the  charm  of  his  unsurpassed  oratory,  these  are  gone 
forever. 

J.  M.  H. 

HAVEN,  November,  1879. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

MEMOIR  or  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN 9 

HISTORICAL   ORATIONS  : 

Oration  delivered  in  Carpenters'  Hall,  Philadelphia,  on  the 
One  Hundredth  Anniversary  of  the  Meeting  of  the  Con 
gress  of  1774 213 

"  The  Settlement  of  Burlington."  An  Oration  delivered  in 
that  City  December  6, 1877,  in  Commemoration  of  the  Two 
Hundredth  Anniversary  of  its  Settlement ....  251 

Oration  at  Valley  Forge,  June  19,  1878,  the  One  Hundredth 
Anniversary  of  the  Departure  of  the  Army  of  the  Eevo- 
lution  from  Winter  Quarters  at  that  place  .  .  .  301 

Oration  composed  to  be  delivered  at  Freehold,  New  Jersey, 
June  28,  1878,  the  One  Hundredth  Anniversary  of  the 
Battle  of  Monmouth  .  .  349 


MEMOIR. 


MEMOIR 


OF 


HENRY  ARMITT    BROWN. 


JAMES  BROWNE,*  from'whom  the  subject  of  this  biog 
raphy  was  the  seventh  in  descent,  was  one  of  the  colonists 
who  came  over  in  "  the  good  ship  Kent,"  and  laid  out  the 
town  of  Burlington,  New  Jersey,  towards  the  latter  part  of 
the  eighth  month,  1677.  This  was  five  years  before  the 
landing  of  William  Perm  and  his  peaceful  company  on  the 
banks  of  the  Delaware.  James  Browne  was  the  son  of 
Richard  and  Mary  Browne,  of  Sywell,  in  Northampton 
shire,  England.  His  father,  Richard,  having  been  con 
verted  to  the  Quaker  doctrine,  had  removed  to  Bedfordshire, 
where  the  family  was  living  when  James,  then  a  young 
man  of  twenty-one,  came  to  America  with  others  to  settle 
on  that  portion  of  territory  purchased  of  Lord  Berkeley  by 
the  Society  of  Friends. 

In  1679,  James  Browne  married  Honour  Clayton  in 
"  the  primitive  meeting-house,  made  of  a  sail  taken  from 
the  Kent,"  being  the  first  marriage  recorded  in  the  State 

*The  terminal  "e"  was  afterwards  dropped  to  satisfy  Quaker 
simplicity. 

2  9 


10  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

of  New  Jersey.  He  removed  from  Burlington  once  more 
"  into  the  Wilderness,"  dying  at  Nottingham,  Pennsylvania, 
in  1716.  His  descendants,  with  the  exception  of  James 
Brown,  who,  near  the  close  of  the  last  century,  returned  to 
England  and  lived  on  his  estate  at  Snaresbrook  Manor,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  London,  were  mostly  residents  of 
Philadelphia,  and  fairly  represented  the  mercantile  intelli 
gence,  respectability,  and  wealth  of  the  old  Quaker  families 
of  the  "  City  of  Brotherly  Love." 

Charles  Brockden  Brown,  author  of  "  Edgar  Huntley," 
and,  it  may  be  said,  the  originator  of  American  novel  litera 
ture,  who  was  born  in  1771,  and  died  in  1810,  belonged  to 
this  family.  He  was  own  uncle  of  Henry  Arruitt  Brown's 
father,  and  his  grand-nephew,  in  some  points  of  character, 
strikingly  resembled  him.  They  were  both  men  of  sen 
sitive  natures,  and  were  both  bred  to  the  law ;  but  having 
early  a  strong  bias  toward  a  literary  life  and  to  that  of 
political  essayists,  this  literary  bent  in  the  case  of  the  first 
drew  him  away  entirely  from  the  legal  profession,  and  in 
the  case  of  the  last  exerted  a  powerful  influence  that  was 
gradually  separating  him  from  his  practice  at  the  bar  and 
leading  him  into  a  broader  political  career. 

This  mild  strain  of  Quaker  ancestry  was  mingled  in  the 
subject  of  the  present  memoir  with  Revolutionary  blood. 
His  great-grandfather  upon  his  mother's  side,  Colonel 
Benjamin  Hoppin,  of  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  passed 
through  the  seven  years  of  the  War  of  Independence  as  a 
captain  of  the  Rhode  Island  Continentals,  and  was  present 
at  Princeton,  Red  Bank,  Monmouth,  and  other  battles  of 
the  Revolution ;  while  another  maternal  ancestor,  Thomas 
Weld  Philbrook,  of  Rhode  Island,  served  at  Ticonderoga, 
and  also  suffered  incredible  hardships  on  board  the  "Jersey 
prison-ship." 


CHILDHOOD  AND   EARLY  YOUTH.  H 

HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN  was  born  in  Philadelphia, 
December  1,  1844.  His  father,  Frederick  Brown,  was  a 
representative  business  man  in  Philadelphia,  whose  character 
for  integrity  and  public  spirit  need  not  be  enlarged  upon,  es 
pecially  to  those  of  his  townsmen  who,  for  half  a  century,  so 
well  knew,  and  honored,  and  loved  him  ;  and,  although  his 
commanding  presence  is  seen  no  more  in  the  streets,  he  will 
be  long  remembered  for  his  geniality  and  sterling  worth. 

Although  Henry  exhibited  mental  traits  of  both  parents, 
yet  from  his  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Charlotte 
Augusta  Hoppin,  it  has  been  remarked  by  his  friends  that 
he  inherited  literary  tastes;  for  such  tastes  are,  perhaps,  as 
frequently  a  matter  of  temperament  as  of  education. 

He  was  a  sweet-tempered  child,  delicately  strung,  and 
extremely  sensitive  to  the  touch  and  sight  of  harsh  things 
as  if  unfit  to  be  stretched  on  this  rough  world,  imaginative, 
curious  in  his  questionings,  sympathetic  and  affectionate, 
but  stubborn  of  will,  and  apt  to  see  things  in  a  very  inde 
pendent  and  ludicrously  odd  light. 

When  an  older  boy,  his  favorite  pastime  was  studying 
the  histories  of  great  battles,  especially  those  of  Napoleon, 
and  also  at  the  time  those  of  the  Crimean  war,  and  in 
arranging  and  moving  companies  of  tin  soldiers  and  parks 
of  artillery  according  to  the  changing  plans  of  the  battles. 
This  play  was  carried  out  on  so  large  a  scale  as  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  neighbors  and  of  older  people  to  the 
extent  of  the  combinations.  One  whole  portion  of  the 
garden  thus  employed  would  become  the  scene  of  a  wide 
and  hurrying  conflict,  platoons  of  soldiers  shifting  across 
the  field,  forts  blowing  up,  dwellings  in  flames,  rivers 
crossed,  and  discharges  of  artillery  from  the  flying  bat 
teries.  "On  one  occasion/7  his  younger  brother  relates, 
"  I,  being  the  representative  Russian,  had  to  build  my 


12  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

tower  and  raise  my  parapets  in  order  to  prepare  for  the 
defence  of  the  Malakoff.  Hal,  as  the  besieging  force,  dug 
his  intrenchments.  We  each  had  little  brass  cannon,  and 
loaded  them  with  one  pellet  of  lead  and  a  few  grains  of 
powder,  attaching  to  each  a  train  of  powder,  so  that  at  the 
appointed  time  the  fuse  could  be  lighted,  and  we  could 
step  off  and  await  the  result.  The  attack  commenced. 
Harry  brought  out  some  forty  or  fifty  of  his  men  as  the 
attacking  column,  and  while  doing  so  was  endeavoring  to 
start  his  cannon  in  order  to  cover  and  assist  them,  but  his 
punk  would  not  light  the  fuse.  I,  however,  was  more 
fortunate,  and  trained  up  my  cannon  on  the  assaulting 
column,  and  the  fuse  ignited.  Three  or  four  of  the  enemy 
were  demolished,  and  the  majority  of  them  knocked  down. 
Harry,  immediately  on  surveying  the  field  of  battle,  said, 
1  Well,  Lardner,  we  have  reversed  history.  The  Malakoff 
cannot  be  taken  this  afternoon.  Let  us  get  some  dinner/  " 
This  boyish  play,  in  fact,  grew  to  be  an  absorbing  passion, 
turning  a  childish  amusement  into  a  thoughtful  and  fore 
casting  exercise  of  the  reasoning  powers;  and  his  early 
taste  seems  to  have  long  clung  to  him,  for  until  he  was 
fourteen  years  old  his  principal  ambition  in  life  was  to  be 
a  great  captain.  His  letters  were  full  of  military  matters, 
organization  of  companies,  marches,  and  courts-martial,  as 
if  they  were  very  real  things  and  the  fate  of  empires  hung 
oh  them.  He  besought  his  father  over  and  over  again  to 
send  him  to  West  Point  Academy.  This  throws  some 
light  upon  his  character,  which,  as  it  sometimes  happens, 
beneath  an  almost  feminine  delicacy  of  organization  hid  a 
nature  of  sinewy  ambition  fitted  to  leadership. 

Harry,  even  as  a  child,  had  a  peculiar  sense  of  personal 
dignity,  which  was  disturbed  at  anything  which  seemed 
unfairly  to  lower  him  in  the  eyes  of  others.  But  he  was 


CHILDHOOD   AND   EARLY   YOUTH.  13 

brimful  of  life,  and  his  mimicry  of  animals  and  funny 
performances  at  school  were  sources  of  infinite  satisfaction 
to  his  schoolmates,  and  sometimes  the  laughter  bore  away 
on  its  tide  both  teacher  and  scholars.  He  seemed  uncon 
scious  of  the  pleasure  he  gave  others.  Although  not  domi 
neering,  every  one  naturally  fell  under  his  control.  He 
was  director  of  the  mock  orchestra  and  captain  of  the 
juvenile  battalion,  and  also  a  champion  cricket-player, 
difficult  as  this  is  to  reconcile  with  his  quiet  habits  in 
after-life. 

His  excessive  fondness  for  sport  was  commenced  at  an 
early  age,  when,  as  a  little  boy,  he  brought  in  the  cedar- 
birds  and  small  game  in  abundance.  This  love  of  "  gun 
ning,"  as  we  call  it  in  America,  was  carried  into  later  life, 
and  it  was  increased  as  he  grew  older  by  his  love  of  nature, 
leading  him  into  the  woods  and  fields  in  rambles,  accom 
panied  only  by  his  dogs,  or  along  the  picturesque  banks 
and  silver  stretches  of  the  Delaware  River,  the  home  of 
the  duck  and  the  little  reed-bird,  and  the  habitation  of 
innumerable  bright  plants  and  flowers. 

Like  most  lively  boys  he  fell  to  rhyming,  inditing  verses 
to  the  young  ladies  at  the  Burlington  St.  Mary's  School, 
or  lampooning  "  ye  unpopular  tutor,"  or  writing  burning 
patriotic  odes,  or  composing  German  ballads  ain  the 
manner  of  Longfellow  or  some  other  fellow."  Some  of 
these  effusions  in  point  of  lively  wit  were  quite  up  to  the 
mark  of  juvenile  performances  of  most  of  the  great  poets 
that  are  published. 

His  first  instructor,  outside  of  home  walls,  was  Miss 
Lucy  A.  Lerned,  who  taught  school  in  the  basement  of 
St.  Luke's  Church,  in  Philadelphia.  A  warm,  mutual 
esteem  was  always  kept  up  between  teacher  and  scholar, 
as  their  correspondence  shows.  Harry's  later  school-days 


14  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

were  passed  at  the  Burlington  Academy  and  at  the  board 
ing-school  of  Dr.  James  Gilborne  Lyons,  in  Haverford, 
Pennsylvania.  He  began  to  study  Latin  at  the  age  of 
seven,  and  obtained  a  "  first  honor"  in  the  summer  term 
of  1853;  and  when  he  went  to  college,  his  master,  Dr. 
Lyons,  wrote  a  letter,  in  which  he  speaks  of  him  as  "  a 
student  of  industrious  habits  and  good  abilities."  He 
appears  to  have  taken  captive  his  instructors,  not  only  by 
his  faithfulness  to  his  studies,  but  by  his  exceedingly  win 
ning  qualities  of  heart,  for  they  follow  his  career  with 
words  of  affectionate  praise. 

He  came  up  to  be  examined  for  admission  to  Yale  Col 
lege  in  July,  1861,  an  unspoiled  youth.  If  truthfulness, 
sincerity,  and  purity  were  ever  expressed  in  a  countenance, 
they  shone  on  his  open  brow.  Yet  it  was  a  thoughtful 
and  serious  face.  His  great,  blue  eyes  asked  searching 
questions  of  all.  Then,  as  always,  he  looked  at  you 
steadily,  and  grasped  your  hand  with  a  firm  grasp.  He 
seemed  at  first  to  be  half-amusingly  and  half-actually  dazed 
by  the  new  responsibilities  and,  to  him,  immense  vistas  of 
a  great  college,  but  it  was  not  long  before  he  cast  himself 
into  the  current  of  student  life  with  an  unbounded  ardor. 
He  here  found  a  congenial  field  for  his  varied  talents.  It 
was  into  the  brotherhood  of  young  men  he  had  come,  and 
his  sympathies  went  out  to  all  in  whom  he  recognized  an 
honorable  and  sympathetic  heart.  There  has  not  been 
graduated  for  a  long  period — perhaps  never,  socially — a 
more  thorough-bred  Yale  student,  one  inspired  by  a  more 
genuine  college  spirit,  who  more  whole-heartedly  identified 
himself  with  college  life,  and  who  infused  into  that  life  a 
more  genial  influence,  than  he  of  whom  we  write.  Though 
both  were  popular  men,  the  true  Harry  Brown  of  Yale 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  15 

was  a  vastly  higher  order  of  student  than  the  fictitious 
Tom  Brown  of  Oxford.  This  is  the  testimony  of  his 
classmates,  and  his  college  career  is  too  recent  for  us  to 
forget  it. 

He  was  soon  felt  to  be  a  social  and,  in  some  points  of 
view,  intellectual  power  in  college, — a  leaven  to  leaven  the 
whole  with  the  enthusiasm  for  true  brotherhood.  While 
more  ambitious  of  class  than  of  scholarly  distinction,  there 
was  no  envy  or  spirit  of  intrigue  about  him.  He  never 
wrought  nor  wriggled  himself  into  an  influential  position. 
Whatever  honors  he  won  were  freely  accorded  to  him. 
While  he  did  not  make  a  positive  mark  as  a  scholar,  he 
succeeded  in  obtaining  an  excellent  intellectual  discipline. 
Yale  did  wonders  for  him.  He  did  not  lose  sight  of  this 
object.  He  gained  more  from  his  college  course  than 
many  higher-stand  men  in  substantial  improvement.  He 
had  "  sensibility,"  which,  Emerson  says,  is  even  better  than 
talent ;  and  he  had  also  a  remarkable  power  of  intellectual 
appreciativeness,  though  not  always  operating  in  regular 
ways.  In  merriest  and  maddest  moods  he  studied  his  own 
powers,  his  mental  aptitudes,  the  character  of  his  instruc 
tors  and  companions,  and  the  best  methods  of  influencing 
men.  The  jest  was  succeeded  by  the  thoughtful  mood  and 
by  the  air  of  intense  abstraction.  Those  deep-sunk,  glow 
ing  eyes  underneath  the  square,  bold  forehead  did  not  be 
speak  a  frivolous  nature.  Concentration,  intense  purpose, 
were  strongly  marked.  As  in  the  legend  of  taking  Calais 
castle  by  disguised  English  knights,  under  the  silken  robe 
was  hid  the  coat  of  mail.  He  was  already  preparing  him 
self  for  life.  He  read  much,  but  independently  and  rather 
scatteringly.  He  was  fond  of  the  classics, — the  Latin  poets 
especially, — and  also  of  history,  of  political  economy,  and, 
to  a  certain  extent,  of  philosophy,  so  that  the  studies  of 


16  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

Senior  year  were  particularly  agreeable  to  him.  But  he  was 
soon  recognized  as  an  off-hand  speaker, — lithe,  graceful, 
never  at  a  loss  for  something  witty,  brilliant,  and  telling. 

Some  irregularity  into  which  he  was  led  by  an  untem- 
pered  zeal  for  college  customs  (many  of  them  more  to  be 
honored  in  the  breach  than  the  observance),  caused  him  to 
spend  a  part  of  Sophomore  year  in  seclusion,  which,  how 
ever,  in  his  case,  did  not  hurt  him  in  the  estimation  of  his 
classmates,  nor,  it  might  be  said,  of  his  instructors,  for  the 
reason  that  no  moral  taint  was  ever  breathed  upon  him. 
He  was  no  rioter  or  deep  drinker.  His  life  was  irreproach 
able,  and  his  sense  of  honor  exquisite. 

When  fun  was  in  order  he  was  assuredly  "  Master  of  the 
Revels."  As  humorist  there  was  no  end  to  his  exuberant 
drollery,  his  sportive  fancies,  and  his  witty  invention.  The 
"  Pow-wow"  of  June  7,  1862,  in  which  he  largely  partici 
pated,  will  ever  be  memorable  as  being  the  best  of  its  kind. 
The  motley  chorus  of  his  racy  songs  roared  by  the  throats 
of  sturdy  Sophomores  struck  the  level  of  the  occasion  much 
better  than  something  more  fine  would  have  done.  In 
resolutions  drafted  by  class  committees;  in  speeches  de 
livered  at  class  suppers;  in  Delta  Kappa,  Alpha  Sigma 
Phi,  and  Psi  Upsilon  lyrics ;  in  debates  and  war-songs  of 
the  Brothers  in  Unity;  in  the  organization  and  carry 
ing  out  the  Thanksgiving  Jubilees  of  Sophomore,  Junior, 
and  Senior  years ;  and,  above  all,  as  one  of  the  illustrious 
" Cochleaureati"  in  the  now  defunct  "Wooden  Spoon" 
celebration,  his  pen  and  voice  were  foremost.  He  was  class 
Mercury  and  Apollo — orator  and  poet.  He  was  Momus 
too.  His  acting  was  excellent  in  every  r6le,  comic,  tragic, 
and  sentimental,  and  was  much  praised.  A  newspaper 
writer  thus  spoke  of  it  in  noticing  the  "  Wooden  Spoon" 
exhibition  of  June,  1865 :  "  The  colloquy  of  Virginia  did 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  17 

not  refer  to  the  unfortunate  State  somewhere  down  South, 
but  was  a  comic  rendering  of  the  old  tragedy  of  Yirginius. 
The  author,  Henry  A.  Brown,  of  Philadelphia,  is  the  best 
actor  in  the  college,  and  personated  old  Virgin ius  to  per 
fection."  Another  said  :  "  The  announced  poem  by  Henry 
A.  Brown  was  omitted  on  account  of  the  lateness  of  the 
hour,  much  to  the  regret  of  the  audience,  as  Mr.  Brown's 
poetical  talents  are  widely  known  in  New  Haven,  and  are 
of  no  common  order.  Two  of  the  songs  of  the  occasion 
are  from  his  pen,  and  are  sufficient  evidence  of  his  superi 
ority  in  this  line." 

The  "  Wooden  Spoon,"  as  is  known  to  those  acquainted 
with  Yale  life,  was  originally  a  grotesque  custom  instituted 
as  an  award  to  the  biggest  eater,  but  it  had  lost  its  coarse 
associations,  and  came  to  be  highly  prized  by  the  students 
as  conferring  social  distinction  upon  those  who  received  it. 
They  were  the  most  popular  men  in  the  class,  and  who  de 
served  to  be  so  because  they  were  men  of  genuine  kindness 
and  unselfish  character,  who,  sunny-hearted  themselves, 
made  "  sunshine  in  a  shady  place"  to  others, — in  a  word, 
they  were  heart-crowned.  Well  did  Harry  Brown  merit 
this  unrecorded  college  honor ;  and  the  big  wooden  spoon, 
wreathed  with  ivy,  now  hanging  on  the  wall  of  his  silent 
study,  is  a  memento  that  to  his  old  friends  would  ever  speak 
pathetically.  The  heart's  fruits  are  unfading.  In  no  evil 
sense,  but,  as  time  went  on,  in  a  true  sense,  and  bearing 
many  a  divine  fruit,  he  held  to  the  poet's  words,  though  put 
in  cynic  lips, — 

"  Und  grun  des  Lebens  goldner  Baum." 

In  the  November  (1864)  number  of  the  Yale  Literary 
Magazine,  Harry  Brown  contributed  a  versified  story  en 
titled  "  The  Lady  of  Katzenjammer,"  in  the  style  of  the 


18  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"Ingoldsby  Legends," — a  very  clever  performance,  com 
mencing  and  travelling  on  in  the  free-swinging  pace  of 
those  rollicking  Irish  poems.  Indeed,  much  of  his  intel 
lectual  energy  was  spent  in  these  literary  excursions  and 
by-paths,  and  especially  in  the  life  of  student  societies. 

At  a  time  when  Yale  was  swarming  with  societies,  open 
and  secret,  partly  derived  from  the  German  universities 
and  the  old  customs  of  the  Burschen  Pennalism,  and  partly 
a  home  product,  Harry  Brown  was  a  great  Society  man. 
The  societies  did  much  for  him,  perhaps  more  than  they 
would  do  for  a  hundred  other  men  of  diiferent  mental 
make.  They  were  most  assuredly  not  an  "  unmixed  evil" 
in  his  case. 

It  will  not  be  denied  that  our  American  university  sys 
tem,  which,  in  some  respects,  is  the  child  of  our  wants 
and  a  truly  marvellous  result  of  our  civilization,  is  not 
as  yet  ideally  perfect  or  practically  complete.  The  old 
system,  which  had  some  excellent  features  and  turned  out 
men  of  strong  individuality,  is  giving  way  to  the  new,  while 
the  new  is  not  yet  attained.  We  are  in  a  transition,  and 
thus  chaotic  state.  We  aim  at  the  universal  and  fail  in  the 
particular.  We  glorify  and  perfect  the  system,  and  leave 
the  subject  of  it  imperfectly  educated.  Too  much  is  at 
tempted  for  it  to  be  thoroughly  done.  The  result,  there 
fore,  is  sciolism  rather  than  science.  It  is  like  grasping 
too  large  a  handful  of  which  little  or  nothing  remains  in 
the  hand.  "Modern  education,"  another  says,  "is  the 
beginning  of  many  things,  and  it  is  little  more  than  a  be 
ginning."  It  certainly  becomes  a  serious  question  whether 
an  elementary  knowledge  of  many  things  is  worth  as  much 
as  the  mastery  of  one  rugged  art,  which  necessitates  such 
a  toughening  of  the  mental  fibre  as  to  enable  the  student  to 
grasp  any  subject.  Power  balanced  by  character  is  the 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  19 

highest  aim  of  education.  The  culture  that  teaches  the 
mind  its  uses,  that  gives  capacity  for  affairs,  that  develops  a 
harmonious  and  vigorous  personality,  should  be  the  common 
resultant  of  the  various  forces  of  a  university  education. 
Mere  specific  training  of  one  set  of  faculties  is  not  the  theory 
of  a  scientific  education.  The  severest  discipline  of  the  critical 
powers,  or  of  the  memory,  which  goes  to  make  scholars, 
and  is  of  the  utmost  value  in  laying  the  foundation  of  a 
true,  intellectual  training,  leaves  untouched  some  of  the 
richest  parts  of  the  manifold  nature  of  man,  the  aesthetic 
and  moral  powers  wherein,  more  than  in  others,  potential 
manhood  exists.  "  Experience  has  shown  that  the  intel 
lectual  qualities  which  insure  success  in  the  discovery  of 
truth  are  rarely  combined  with  the  qualities  which  lend 
these  truths  their  greatest  practical  efficiency.  The  habits 
of  the  study  are  not  the  best  discipline  for  affairs."  This 
truth,  so  tersely  put  by  one  of  our  younger  writers  on  edu 
cational  matters,  should  be  a  hint  to  those  who  desire  to 
make  a  university  system  of  education  the  most  practically 
effective  as  well  as  the  most  thoroughly  scholar-like.  The 
waste  of  mind  is  too  great  a  price  to  pay  for  the  experiment 
of  theories.  "Culture,"  says  Principal  Shairp,*  "is  not 
the  product  of  mere  study.  Learning  may  be  got  from 
books,  but  not  culture.  It  is  a  more  living  process,  and 
requires  that  the  student  at  times  should  close  his  books, 
leave  his  room,  and  mingle  with  his  fellow-men.  He  must 
seek  the  intercourse  of  living  hearts,  especially  in  the  com 
panionship  of  his  own  contemporaries,  whose  minds  tend 
to  elevate  and  sweeten  his  own.  It  is  also  a  method  of 
self-discipline,  the  learning  of  self-control,  the  fixing  of 
habits,  the  effort  to  overcome  what  is  evil,  and  to  strengthen 

*  Now  Professor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford. 


20  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

what  is  good  in  our  nature."  It  is  laying  the  plan  of  life 
in  human  intercourse,  in  the  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
in  self-knowledge,  in  self-reliance,  in  thought  as  in  study. 
It  is  the  drawing  out  of  the  energies  in  strife  with  living 
forces,  wherein  what  is  slavish  and  useless  is  stripped  away 
and  a  free  manhood  is  the  result.  We  once  came  across  an 
officer,  high  in  rank  in  the  American  army,  who  had  dis 
tinguished  himself  in  the  last  war  for  his  business  capacity 
as  well  as  gallantry  in  the  field, — by  brains  as  well  as 
bravery, — who,  in  a  familiar  conversation  upon  a  hotel 
stoop,  remarked,  emphatically,  that  the  qualities  and  acts 
which  won  him  success  in  his  professional  life  were  just 
those  which  caused  his  expulsion  from  college.  This  was 
putting  the  matter  in  a  way  where  truth  is  sacrificed  to 
point ;  but  it  is  a  question  whether  such  a  man,  or  a  man 
powerful  in  another  career,  like  Henry  Armitt  Brown, 
would  have  been  what  either  of  them  was  if  they  had  re 
stricted  themselves  entirely  to  the  prescribed  course,  and 
had  been  mere  scholars  while  in  college,  or  continued  to  be 
mere  scholars  out  of  it.  It  seems,  sometimes,  to  be  regretted 
that  such  force  could  not  earlier  be  recognized  and  turned 
into  right  channels.  These  men,  in  their  secret  heart, 
lamented  the  time  they  may  have  spent  in  social  life  that 
should  have  been  given  to  thorough  study:  nor  would 
severe  scholarship  have  done  them  more  injury  than  polish 
a  steel  blade ;  but  to  do  what  they  and  other  manly  intel 
lects  ought  to  do,  and  do  it  well,  requires  a  longer  time  than 
four  crowded  years,  and  a  broader,  scholarly  preparation  for 
college,  with  a  more  free  and  professional  course  of  study 
in  the  university,  ending  in  a  definite  concentration  upon 
some  department  of  study  best  suited  to  their  powers. 
This  should  be  accomplished  by  the  culture  of  their  varied 
capacities,  none  of  which  should  be  starved  with  meagre 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  21 

diet,  but,  by  being  generously  nourished,  should  develop 
them  into  knowledgeable,  genial,  alert,  strong,  and  useful 
men,  fitted  to  serve  the  State  in  any  position  to  which  they 
might  be  called ;  for,  though  we  would  not  entirely  give 
in  to  the  Socratic  axiom  that  the  highest  good  of  life  is 
"  practical  wisdom,"  yet  a  wisdom  which  is  unserviceable  to 
living  is  but  a  transcendental  philosophy.  In  these  remarks 
no  encouragement  is  meant  to  be  given  to  the  neglect  of 
scholarly  duties,  for  the  university  is  the  place  where  schol 
arship  is  the  duty  and  the  inexpressible  privilege  never  to 
be  regained  if  lost.  Not  that  good  scholars  are  always 
made  in  college  (for  it  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  they  are 
not),  but  while  there  should  be  good  scholarship,  if  our 
colleges  could  turn  out  ready  men  as  well  as  ready  scholars, — 
serviceable  men, — who  are  "  a  measure  and  rule  to  them 
selves,"  as  fit  for  the  pursuits  of  public  life  as  for  critical 
research  in  private  study,  it  would  be  a  marvellous  gain. 
This,  perhaps,  is  what  Matthew  Arnold  and  other  writers 
mean  when  they  vote  that  Greek  shall  not  be  a  condition 
to  entering  the  university  ;  not  that  Greek  is  not  a  grand 
attainment  for  a  man  and  a  gentleman,  which  nothing  else, 
and  certainly  no  modern  language,  can  take  the  place  of, 
but  that  the  man  should  come  before  the  scholar. 

There  is  another  danger  difficult  to  define  threatening  our 
universities,  in  which  we  seem  to  hear  the  warning  voice  of 
a  man  so  full  of  earnest  purpose  as  was  the  Armitt  Brown 
of  Yale  days, — of  ardent  glow  of  manly  intellect,  however 
irregular  its  flashes.  The  athletic  epoch,  chastened  in  his 
time,  has  had  its  uses ;  it  was  a  much  needed  reform ;  it 
has  done  great  good  and  will  do  more ;  but  it  were  a 
lamentable  triumph  if,  while  it  brought  back  the  Greek 
type  of  physical  strength,  it  quenched  the  Greek  type  of 
mental  force.  The  roystering  muscularity  of  a  vast  deal 


22  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

of  English  modern  university  life  bordering  on  the  brutal 
we  would  by  no  means  have  transferred  to  the  American 
college. 

"  I  past  beside  the  reverend  walls 

In  which  of  old  I  wore  the  gown  ; 
And  roved  at  random  thro'  the  town, 
And  saw  the  tumult  of  the  halls ; 

"  And  heard  once  more  in  college  fanes 

The  storm  their  high-built  organs  make, 
And  thunder-music,  rolling,  shake 
The  prophets  blazoned  on  the  panes  ; 

"  And  caught  once  more  the  distant  shout, 
The  measured  pulse  of  racing  oars 
Among  the  willows  ;  paced  the  shores 
And  many  a  bridge,  and  all  about 

"  The  same  gray  flats  again,  and  felt 

The  same  but  not  the  same ;  and  last 
Up  that  long  walk  of  limes  I  past 
To  see  the  rooms  in  which  he  dwelt. 

"  Another  name  was  on  the  door ; 
I  linger'd  •,  all  within  was  noise 
Of  songs,  and  clapping  hands,  and  boys 
That  crash'd  the  glass  and  beat  the  floor  ; 

"  Where  once  we  held  debate,  a  band 

Of  youthful  friends,  on  mind  and  art, 
And  labor,  and  the  changing  mart, 
And  all  the  framework  of  the  land."* 

It  is  often  said  that  young  men  at  college  learn  more 
from  each  other  than  they  do  from  their  teachers.  Harry 
Brown,  who,  at  an  impressionable  age,  possessed  in  an  un- 

*  Tennyson's  "In  Memoriani,"  Ixxxvi. 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  23 

common  degree  the  capacity  of  friendship,  as  also  the  pas 
sion  of  hero-worship,  was  keenly  alive  to  the  influence  of 
his  college-mates,  since  from  the  nobility  of  his  soul  he 
recognized  what  there  was  of  superiority  in  them,  and  this 
good  he  constantly  drew  from  by  a  manly  friendship. 

There  was  one  classmate  who  exercised  a  supreme  power 
— it  might  be  called  fascination — over  him,  and  who,  in 
fact,  was  the  worshipped  idol  of  his  soul.  Joseph  Apple- 
ton  Bent  was  a  man  whose  intellect  consumed  his  body, 
and  while  the  flame  burned  it  was  with  excessive  bright 
ness.  It  was  electric  light  too  bright  to  last.  In  the 
history  of  the  class  of  765  Harry  Brown  pays  a  hearty 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  his  friend,  who  died  three  years 
after  graduation,  having  already  made  his  mark  as  a  lawyer 
and  orator. 

There  was  a  sympathy  between  these  two  young  men 
that  enabled  Harry  to  know  his  friend.  His  slumbering 
energies,  and  the  final  direction  that  their  activity  took, 
were  fired  by  the  inspiration  of  Bent's  genius  acting  on  a 
kindred  spirit ;  and  this  influence,  as  is  sometimes  the  case 
with  contemplative  men  who  have  lost  the  heart-friends  of 
their  youth,  continued  to  hover  over  him  like  a  light,  like 
a  spiritual  presence.  What  follows  may  seem  to  be  an 
enthusiastic  tribute,  but  Bent,  tried  by  any  true  standard, 
was  no  common  man,  as  he  was  not  who  thus  eulogizes 
and  laments  him  as  David  did  Jonathan. 

"  His  style  of  speaking  varied  with  each  occasion,  and  seemed 
naturally  to  adapt  itself  to  all.  He  could  be  grave  or  gay,  witty  or 
serious,  solemn  or  animated,  with  equal  grace;  and  there  was,  at 
all  times,  a  stateliness  in  his  manner  and  a  reserve  of  power  remark 
able  in  one  so  young.  His  readiness  and  skill  in  debate  were  unsur 
passed.  Brilliant  as  he  was  in  attack,  he  was  greatest  in  reply,  and 
to  more  than  one  of  his  admiring  hearers,  his  slender  form,  sloping 
shoulders,  high  forehead,  and  long  straight  nose  bore  a  striking 


24  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

resemblance  to  the  portraits  of  the  younger  Pitt,  while  his  stately 
manner  and  sonorous  voice  seemed  to  complete  the  likeness.  It 
may,  perhaps,  be  thought  that  the  impression  which  he  made  upon 
his  associates  was  deepened  by  their  youth  and  enthusiasm,  and  that 
their  high  opinion  of  his  powers  might  not  have  been  confirmed  by 
the  judgment  of  inaturer  years.  To  a  limited  extent,  no  doubt,  the 
first  remark  is  true ;  but  Bent's  powers  may  be  judged,  not  only  by 
comparison  with  those  of  the  foremost  of  his  contemporaries,  whom 
he  so  far  excelled,  but  by  that  highest  test  of  the  orator,  the  effect 
which  they  produced  on  so  many  occasions  in  and  out  of  college. 
He  often  turned  the  balance  of  a  question  and  carried  a  point  against 
what  was,  at  the  outset,  a  hostile  sentiment.  His  speaking  not  only 
controlled  the  feelings  and  charmed  the  ear,  but  it  changed  convic 
tion  and  overcame  the  will ;  and,  if  it  be  objected  that  the  one  was 
perhaps  not  the  strongest,  nor  the  other  the  most  fixed,  it  may  be 
added  that  his  was  a  mind  which  to  a  remarkable  degree  was  sus 
ceptible  of  continuous  and  healthful  growth,  and  his  powers  would, 
without  doubt,  have  kept  more  than  equal  pace  with  the  years.  No 
one  who  has  seen  him  in  the  full  exercise  of  his  great  gift  can  doubt 
that,  when  he  died,  a  light  was  quenched  that  burned  with  the  fire 
of  real  genius.  . 

u  Born  as  he  was  for  leadership,  keeping  ever  from  earliest  boy 
hood  before  the  eyes  of  men,  his  true  character  was  not  always  appre 
ciated.  He  had  a  natural  shyness  which  took  the  form  of  reserve, 
and  many  thought  him  cold.  This  was  a  great  mistake.  To  those 
whom  he  admitted  into  his  affections  there  was  no  friendship  warmer 
or  more  sincere  than  his,  and  no  one  had  to  a  larger  extent  than  he 
the  faculty  of  grappling  to  his  own  the  hearts  of  others.  The  class 
was  proud  of  his  reputation ;  the  world  in  general  admired,  but  his 
friends  loved  him.  To  most,  even  of  his  classmates,  he  was  the 
skilful  politician,  the  graceful  writer,  the  brilliant  wit,  the  unrivalled 
orator  5  but  to  the  few  to  whom  he  revealed  himself,  he  was  the  rare 
companion,  the  true  and  tender-hearted  friend. 

"And  in  that  character  I,  who  write  these  lines,  which  do  his 
memory  such  scanty  justice,  love  best  to  think  of  him.  I  am  not 
able,  even  now,  to  feel  that  Joe  Bent  is  dead.  Five  years  of  close 
companionship  growing  ever  closer, — of  friendship,  strengthening 
with  each  day,  gave  him  a  hold  upon  my  heart  which  Death  itself 
has  not  had  power  to  break.  Across  the  interval  of  twice  that  length 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  25 

of  time  the  face  and  figure  of  my  early  friend  rise,  often,  now  before 
my  eyes.  I  see  that  slender  form  erect, — one  foot  advanced, — the 
head  thrown  back, — the  long  right  arm  outstretched  with  open  hand, 
sweeping  the  air  with  graceful  gesture, — the  cheek  flushed  with 
excitement, — the  eye  flashing  beneath  the  smooth  white  brow, — the 
short  lip  curling  with  the  pride  of  conscious  power, — and  on  my  ear 
seems  still  to  fall  the  ring  of  that  inspiring  voice !  Oftener  still,  I 
walk  with  him  in  the  busy  street  and  hear  the  shrewd,  epigrammatic 
comment  on  men  and  things.  I  sit  beside  him  in  some  quiet  place 
and  go  over  again  the  thousand  great  schemes  for  the  future  of  which 
his  mind  was  full.  We  talk — we  laugh — we  argue — we  debate  ; — 
just  as  we  used  to  do  so  long  ago.  I  share  in  all  these  hopes  and  fears 
of  his  •,  he  enters  into  mine.  Nor  can  he  change.  I  may  grow  old 
and  alter,  but  Death  has  conferred  on  him  for  me  immortal  youth. 

u  Ten  years  have  passed  since  we  left  old  Yale  together, — seven 
since  we  parted  not  to  meet  again :  new  ties  have  bound  me ;  new 
friends  won  my  regard ;  new  associations  formed  around  my  path  5 — 
but  thy  place  cannot  be  taken  by  another,  nor  shall  my  heart  forget 
thee,  0  my  friend." 

Both  these  brilliant  careers  have  been  quenched,  yet  the 
harmony  of  their  lives  and  the  memory  of  their  friendship, 
and  the  incitement  of  their  manly  ambition  to  lead  men  up 
to  something  higher,  and  their  country  on  to  something 
better,  burn  in  many  hearts. 

Harry  Brown  was  chosen  to  be  the  class  poet,  a  sub 
stantial  tribute  to  his  popularity,  if  not  to  his  poetical 
genius.  He  had  a  vein  of  true  poetry  in  him,  but  it  is 
rare  that  poetry  "  made  to  order"  is  of  high  order.  Lau 
relled  Tennyson  drops  a  leaflet  or  two  from  his  crown 
when  he  writes  a  laureate  ode.  The  poem  delivered  so 
gracefully  on  Presentation  Day,  1865,  was  not  adjudged  to 
be  below  the  mark  of  such  performances,  perhaps  above 
the  ordinary  standard,  and,  with  excellent  taste,  it  was 
natural  and  sincere,  without  attempting  the  sublime.  His 
classmates  were  satisfied  that  a  great  poet  had  spoken,  and 
what  more  could  be  asked  ?  It  was  altogether  an  interest- 

3 


26  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

ing  commencement  season,  that  of  1865;  and  the  regatta 
at  Worcester  and  Yale's  naval  victory,  counting  in  time 
seventeen  minutes  forty-two  and  a  half  seconds,  in  which 
another  of  his  classmates,  Wilbur  Russell  Bacon,  distin 
guished  himself  as  stroke-oar,  illustrating  the  strenuous 
motto  of  the  class,  Ob  A6yot<n  '«AA  Spyoufft,  added  to  the 
glories  of  the  occasion.  At  this  commencement  occurred 
the  ever-memorable  patriotic  memorial  of  Yale's  dead 
soldiers,  at  which  William  Evarts  presided  and  Horace 
Bushnell  spoke. 

Henry  Armitt  was  also  selected  to  be  one  of  the  class 
historians,  a  more  honorable  than,  it  would  seem  to  be, 
desirable  office,  and  while,  as  is  the  custom  at  this  occasion, 
he  thrust  men  through  and  through  with  his  historic  blade, 
he  also  managed  to  bring  them  to  life  again  and  to  make 
them  laugh  heartily  without  making  them  angry ;  for  his 
wit  was  not  that  sort  of  which  Jeremy  Taylor  speaks, 
"which  hath  teeth  and  nails  to  bite  and  devour  thy 
brother,"  His  graceful  little  "Ivy  Song,"  sung  by  the 
class  under  the  walls  of  the  library  building,  fitly  closes 
his  college  career  with  its  thoughtful  ending. 

He  spoke  afterwards  thus  humorously  of  his  class  at 
their  triennial  meeting : 

"  It  may  not  be  known  to  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  the 
class  of  '65  was  always  a  remarkable  class.  It  is  true  we  were 
not  distinguished  for  accurate  scholarship.  I  remember  on  one 
occasion  a  prize  was  offered  to  us,  but  there  was  no  mathematician 
in  our  class  to  claim  it.  For  the  class  of  '65  turned  to  other  things 
the  attention  which  some  of  its  predecessors  had  given  to  mathe 
matics,  and  the  only  mathematicians  among  us  are  certain  of  our 
married  brethren,  who  have  made  examples  of  themselves  by 
coming  here  to-night  increased  to  two,  and  some  of  them  with  one 
to  carry.  No,  we  were  never  distinguished  for  our  scholarship. 
In  calculus  we  found  incalculable  trouble  ;  conies  delighted  us  not ; 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  27 

we  saw  nothing  to  admire  in  analytics  but  its  first  two  syllables. 
We  knew  little  Latin  and  less  Greek.  We  sought  to  read  the  stars 
by  other  methods  than  those  which  astronomy  teaches,  and  we  were 
more  familiar  with  the  courts  of  the  Areopagus  than  with  the 
philosophy  of  the  Academy.  We  were,  in  fact,  the  Samaritans  of 
the  college,  for  '  we  feared  the  faculty,  and  served  our  own  gods.'  " 

If  there  be  truth  in  this  jesting  language,  both  as  respects 
others  and  himself,  it  is  a  wrong  judgment  to  suppose  that 
in  the  speaker's  case  the  stern  nurse,  Yale,  did  nothing  for 
his  real  growth.  This  has  been  emphatically  denied.  On 
the  contrary,  she  did  everything.  No  college  in  the  land 
could  have  clone  better  for  him.  Where  he  seemed  careless 
he  drew  constant  nourishment  and  strength.  It  was  at 
Yale  that  he  acquired  the  power  to  think,  to  write,  and  to 
speak, — three  great  acquisitions  for  a  man.  But,  as  has 
been  said,  he  learned  what  he  did  in  pretty  much  his  own 
methods,  seeking  what  he  thought  he  needed  most,  not 
always  judging  rightly,  but  retaining  his  individuality,  and 
steadily,  even  obstinately,  refusing  to  be  run  into  the 
common  mould.  The  teachers  who  nourished,  for  better 
or  worse,  the  intellectual  young  men  at  that  time,  were 
Motley,  Macaulay,  Emerson,  Matthew  Arnold,  Herbert 
Spencer,  and  John  Stuart  Mill.  It  was  then,  as  now,  a 
conflict  of  free  thought,  but  of  transition,  we  believe,  to  a 
higher  or  more  productive  philosophy.  It  was  also  then, 
at  Yale,  about  the  beginning  of  the  struggle  (Kulturkampf] 
after  a  broader  literary  and  scientific  culture  than  had 
before  existed.  Thackeray  bore  away  the  palm  from 
Chauvenet,  and  Auerbach  from  Ueberweg ;  but  no  young 
man  of  good  mind  could  remain  during  a  college  course, 
under  the  solid  training  of  President  Woolsey  and  other 
instructors  of  old  Yale,  without  gaining  sturdy  intel 
lectual  growth,  enriched  scientific  knowledge,  and  disci- 


28  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

plined  habits  of  mind.  The  career  of  Henry  Armitt 
Brown  after  leaving  college  confirms  this  assertion;  and 
if  his  Alma  Mater  has  reason  to  be  proud  of  him,  he 
often  expressed  himself  as  proud  of  her,  and  he  was  ever 
a  most  loyal  son  of  Yale. 

We  made  a  reference  to  the  triennial  meeting  of  the 
class  of  '65,  at  which  meeting  Harry  acted  as  chairman, 
and,  as  this  in  some  sense  belongs  to  the  period  of  college 
life,  although  it  is  anticipating  three  years,  we  will  speak 
of  it  here  again.  It  was  held  in  New  Haven,  July  22, 
1868,  and  just  sixty-five  of  the  members  were  present  and 
sat  down  to  dinner.  Harry  presided  with  genial  dignity, 
wit,  and  grace.  The  "  silver  cup  presentation"  to  the  first 
born  child  of  the  class  formed  not  the  least  interesting  and 
mirth-provoking  part  of  the  doings  of  the  evening.  The 
president  introduced  the  ceremony  with  some  happy  words. 
The  "  Cup  Song,"  in  honor  of  the  "  class-boy,"  the  son  of 
Henry  Clay  McCreary,  of  California,  was  sung  with  hearti 
ness.  We  give  it  as  a  reminiscence  of  college  days  and  of 
Yale  customs,  which,  perhaps,  to  some  readers,  may  be  novel 
and  will  amuse  them : 

SONG. 

BY  HEXRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

AIR — lsJohn  Brown's  Body." 

Like  bees  with  honey  laden  that  are  crowding  to  their  hives, 

We  have  gathered  here  to-night,  my  friends,  our  children  and  our 

wives, 

To  make  a  little  noise,  if  ne'er  before  in  all  our  lives, 
For  Yale  and  Sixty-five. 

Chorus. — Glory,  glory,  hallelujah,  etc. 

We  have  longed  to  see  this  evening  since  our  Freshman  year  began, 
And  how  often  have  we  wondered  which  of  us  would  lead  the  van ; 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  29 

But  to-night  the  question's  settled  and  McCreary  is  the  man ! 
Hurrah  for  Sixty-five! 
Chorus. 

You're  a  lucky  man,  McCreary,  and  honor  you  we  should ; 
You've  done  us  all  great  credit,  and  the  best  a  fellow  could. 
There  are  some  of  us  yet  single, — your  example  will  do  good 
To  your  friends  of  Sixty-five. 
Chorus. 

We  all  one  day  will  follow  in  the  course  that  you  have  run, 
And  if  Fortune  smiles  upon  us,  we  shall  do  as  you  have  done ; 
And  each  one  ere  his  setting  see  the  rising  of  his  son, 
Like  this  boy  of  Sixty-five. 
Chorus. 

Then  fill  your  glasses,  classmates,  for  a  bumper ;  while  ye  sup 
Give  three  cheers  for  McCreary  and  his  lady  !  shake  it  up  ! ! 
All  honor  to  the  fellow  who  has  won  the  silver  cup 
Of  the  class  of  Sixty-five  ! ! ! 
Chorus. 

May  the  God  who  watches  o'er  us  smile  on  the  little  boy, 
Pour  in  this  cup  His  blessings  till  it  runneth  o'er  with  joy, 
And  make  his  years  like  links  of  gold,  untarnished  with  alloy, 
Is  the  prayer  of  Sixty-five. 
Chorus. 

Accept,  then,  blessed  baby,  in  the  name  of  Mother  Yale, 
Your  hundred  uncles'  loving  gift ;  grow  noble,  brave,  and  hale ; 
And  when  you  quaff  its  contents,  may  remembrance  never  fail 
Of  Yale  and  Sixty-five. 
Chorus. 

May  it  keep  your  head  forever  clear,  your  heart  forever  true ; 
And  as  long  as  you  will  stick  to  it,  be  sure  we'll  stick  to  you  ; 
And  now,  you  small  McCreary,  we'll  give  three  times  three  for  you, 
Cup-boy  of  Sixty-five ! 
Chorus. 


30  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

We  cannot  leave  Harry  Brown's  college  life  without 
giving  an  extract  or  two  from  a  letter  of  one  of  his  own 
classmates  and  most  intimate  friends : 

"  Harry,  while  in  college,  studied  the  languages  with  an 
appreciation  and  enjoyment  that  belonged  to  no  one  else  in 
the  class.  This  was  evidenced  by  the  thorough  familiarity 
with  the  style  of  each  author,  by  the  ease  with  which  he 
could,  at  any  time,  recall  passages  remarkable  for  some  fine 
shade  of  thought,  imagery,  or  delicacy  of  expression.  He 
would  often  astonish  us  by  quoting  at  length,  and  with  no 
hesitation  whatever,  from  Homer  or  from  the  Latin  poets, 
and  when  we  expressed  surprise  and  asked  how  he  could 
recall  them,  he  would  answer  that  he  did  not  know,  and 
that  he  did  it  with  no  effort.  He  was  particularly  fond  of 
Horace,  and  apt  at  repeating  passages  from  him.  These 
quotations  were  never  for  show,  but  always  came  in  pat, 
suggested  by  some  little  every-day  happening.  From  the 
study  of  other  branches,  such  as  metaphysics,  history  of 
English  literature,  and  of  civilization,  political  economy, 
etc.,  I  know  he  acquired  great  good,  and  why  he  did  not 
show  this  in  his  recitations  to  a  greater  degree  I  never 
could  quite  understand.  I  have  thought  that  perhaps  it 
might  be  that  he  grasped  principles  rather  than  the  words 
and  detail  with  which  they  were  expounded  by  an  author. 
Then,  too,  we  know  that  he  was  strikingly  original, — fond 
of  following  up  his  own  thoughts, — and  no  doubt  often, 
when  he  sat  down  with  his  Way  land,  his  Hamilton,  or 
Hopkins,  would  find  himself  thinking  in  directions  sug 
gested  by  what  he  read,  rather  than  mastering  what  he  read 
with  special  reference  to  a  recitation. 

"  He  was  a  keen  observer  of  human  nature,  and  he 
caught  intuitively  the  peculiarities  of  mind  and  character 
of  each  of  his  classmates.  Recognizing  this,  we  made  him 


COLLEGE  LIFE.  31 

one  of  our  class  historians,  and  a  better  choice  could  not 
have  been  made.  When  on  Presentation  Day  he  rose  to 
read  what  he  had  written,  there  came  a  treat  to  those  who 
heard,  which  will  always  be  remembered. 

"  He  had  a  quick  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  and  a  vein  of 
quiet  humor  that  enlivened  all  his  talk  and  writing.  He 
enjoyed  exercising  this  gift,  and  might  have  done  so  in 
after-life  to  the  expense  of  the  higher  fame  which  he 
achieved,  but  for  an  incident  which,  I  believe,  changed  his 
current.  A  rather  heavy  subject  for  composition  had  been 
given  out,  and  when  he  was  called  upon  he  read  a  produc 
tion  which  from  beginning  to  end  kept  the  class  in  un 
controllable  merriment.  Our  instructor,  however,  partly 
because  he  considered  the  proprieties  violated,  and  partly 
because  he  saw  the  danger  that  the  gift  of  wit  brings  to  the 
bright  mind  by  the  temptation  to  indulge  it  at  the  cost  of 
higher  faculties,  criticised  him  severely.  Being  of  an  ex 
ceedingly  sensitive  nature  he  took  the  thing  to  heart,  as 
was  shown  by  the  restraint  he  placed  upon  himself  in  all 
class  exercises  of  like  nature  afterwards.  Not  long  before 
his  death,  and  when  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  fame,  he 
complained  to  me  that  he  had  entirely  lost  this  old-time 
appreciation  of  humor ;  but  he  was  wrong  here.  His  let 
ters  and  his  conversation  always  sparkled  with  wit,  as  did 
his  response  to  the  toast,  'The  Junior  Members  of  the 
Bar.'  His  standard  was  simply  higher,  and  his  themes 
were  of  too  noble  and  heroic  a  character  to  admit  of  its 
indulgence. 

"  I  remember  Harry  most  pleasantly  in  college  for  his 
love  of  nature.  Sometimes  he  would  gratify  it  by  long, 
lonely  tramps,  when  in  peculiar  moods,  but  he  generally 
craved  companionship.  A  cloud-picture,  or  unusual  ap 
pearance  of  the  sky  or  light  upon  the  hills,  a  fine  sunset  or 


32  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

a  gathering  storm,  never  escaped  him  or  failed  to  bring 
him  vivid  pleasure. 

"  I  distinctly  remember  my  first  meeting  with  him.  It 
was  at  the  beginning  of  Freshman  year.  I  had  secured 
board  at  the  table  of  two  maiden  ladies,  near  the  Sheffield 
school.  At  my  first  meal  a  thin,  pale  boy,  with  large  gray 
eyes,  came  in  with  me.  He  had  just  graduated  from  some 
military  school,  which  was  evidenced  by  the  semi-military 
cap  he  wore  looking  more  warlike  than  he  did.  We  were 
all  Freshmen  at  the  table,  and  before  long  the  restraint  of 
newly  coming  together  wore  away.  We  all  passed  a  most 
pleasant  year  together,  for  which  we  were  indebted  to 
Harry's  vivacity  and  good  company  more  than  anything 
else.  He  was  of  a  uniformly  happy  temper,  and  always 
showed  the  kindest  consideration  for  others7  feelings. 

"  I  loved  Harry,  was  proud  of  his  successes,  proud  of 
his  friendship,  and  I  cherish  his  memory." 

Soon  after  their  graduation  Harry,  with  his  friend  Bent 
and  others  of  his  classmates,  joined  the  Columbia  Law 
School,  in  New  York  City.  Here,  with  a  great  enthusi 
asm  for  Professor  Theodore  Dwight  and  a  moderate  enthu 
siasm  for  the  study  itself,  and  with  many  interruptions  and 
breaks  by  other  pursuits, — literary,  social,  and  political, — 
he  read  law  for  a  year.  On  December  8,  1865,  he  was 
admitted  to  the  membership  of  the  Union  League  Club 
of  Philadelphia,  for  which  association  he  afterwards  did 
knightly  service.  In  July,  1866,  in  company  with  Mr. 
Adolph  Borie's  family,  he  sailed  for  Europe,  where  he 
passed  sixteen  months  in  travel,  during  which  time  he 
visited  the  countries  of  Europe,  with  the  exception  of  Rus 
sia,  Sweden,  Norway,  and  Spain.  The  following  winter 
he  spent  in  going  up  the  Nile,  sailing  for  Egypt  from 


FIRST   VISIT  TO  EUROPE.  33 

Brindisi.  He  ascended  to  the  second  cataract  in  his  own 
boat.  He  went  from  Egypt  to  Palestine,  riding  from  Jaffa 
to  Jerusalem,  and  through  Palestine  and  Syria  to  Damas 
cus,  returning  to  Italy  by  the  way  of  Smyrna,  Constanti 
nople,  Athens,  and  Sicily.  He  came  home  improved  in 
health,  having  before  suffered  from  dyspepsia.  In  a  letter 
replying  to  one  from  a  committee  of  his  class,  he  answers 
categorically  several  questions  in  relation  to  his  manner  of 
life  since  leaving  college.  Among  other  things  he  says: 
"  My  future  expectations  are  moderate  and  modest.  I  do 
not  expect  great  success,  but  I  do  not  anticipate  failure.  So 
far  as  I  can  recall  I  have  married  no  one ;  from  which  you 
may  conclude  that,  as  to  children, ( I  have  none  to  speak  of/  " 
About  this  time  he  relates  in  a  letter  to  a  clerical  friend 
of  his  family  (which  letter  we  subjoin)  a  remarkable  dream, 
worth  recording  as  a  psychological  phenomenon : 

"  May  3,  1869. 

u  REV.  AND  DEAR  SIR, — After  many  delays  I  send  you  a  short 
account  of  the  dream  which  excited  your  interest  last  summer. 

"  In  the  fall  of  1865,  I  think  it  was  in  the  month  of  November, 
while  I  was  studying  law  in  the  city  of  New  York,  I  retired  to  my 
room  about  midnight  of  a  cold  blustering  evening.  I  remember  dis 
tinctly  hearing  the  clock  strike  twelve  as  I  lay  in  bed  watching  the 
smouldering  fire  until  drowsiness  crept  upon  me  and  I  slept.  I  had 
hardly  lost  consciousness  when  I  seemed  to  hear  loud  and  confused 
noises,  and  felt  a  choking  sensation  at  my  throat  as  if  it  were  grasped 
by  a  strong  hand.  I  awoke  (as  it  seemed),  and  found  myself  lying 
on  my  back  on  the  cobble-stones  of  a  narrow  street,  writhing  in  the 
grip  of  a  low-browed,  thick-set  man,  with  '  unkempt  hair  and  grizzled 
beard.'  who,  with  one  hand  at  my  throat  and  holding  my  wrist  with 
the  other,  threw  his  weight  upon  me  and  held  me  down. 

"  From  the  first  I  knew  that  his  desire  was  to  kill  me,  and  my 
struggles  were  for  life.  I  recall  distinctly  the  sense  of  horror  at  first 
and  then  that  of  furious  determination  which  took  possession  of  me. 

"  I  did  not  make  a  sound,  but  with  a  sudden  effort  threw  him  half 


34  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

off  me,  clutched  him  frantically  by  the  hair,  and  in  my  agony  bit 
furiously  at  his  throat.  Over  and  over  we  rolled  upon  the  stones. 
My  strength  began  to  give  way  before  the  fury  of  my  struggles, — 
I  saw  that  my  antagonist  felt  it  and  smiled  a  ghastly  smile  of  triumph. 

"  Presently  I  saw  him  reach  forth  his  hand  and  grasp  a  bright 
hatchet.  Even  in  this  extremity  I  noticed  that  the  hatchet  was  new 
and  apparently  unused,  with  glittering  head  and  white  polished 
handle.  I  made  one  more  tremendous  fight  for  life ;  for  a  second  I 
held  my  enemy  powerless,  and  saw  with  such  a  thrill  of  delight  as 
I  cannot  forget  the  horror-stricken  faces  of  friends,  within  a  rod  of 
us,  rushing  to  my  rescue.  As  the  foremost  of  them  sprang  upon  the 
back  of  my  antagonist  he  wrenched  his  wrist  away  from  me.  I  saw 
the  hatchet  flash  above  my  head,  and  felt  instantly  a  dull  blow  on 
the  forehead. 

"  I  fell  back  on  the  ground,  a  numbness  spread  from  my  head  over 
my  body,  a  warm  liquid  flowed  down  upon  face  and  into  my  mouth, 
and  I  remember  the  taste  was  of  blood,  and  my  *  limbs  were  loosed.' 

"  Then  I  thought  I  was  suspended  in  the  air  a  few  feet  above  my 
body.  I  could  see  myself  as  if  in  a  glass,  lying  on  the  back,  the 
hatchet  sticking  in  the  head,  and  the  ghastliness  of  death  gradually 
spreading  over  the  face.  I  noticed  especially  that  the  wound  made 
by  the  hatchet  was  in  the  centre  of  the  forehead,  at  right  angles  to 
and  divided  equally  by  the  line  of  the  hair.  I  heard  the  weeping  of 
friends,  at  first  loud  then  growing  fainter,  fading  away  into  silence. 
A  delightful  sensation  of  sweet  repose  without  a  feeling  of  fatigue 
— precisely  like  that  which  I  experienced  years  ago  at  Cape  May, 
when  beginning  to  drown — crept  over  me.  I  heard  exquisite  music  ; 
the  air  was  full  of  rare  perfumes  5  I  sank  upon  a  bed  of  downy  soft 
ness — when,  with  a  start,  I  awoke.  The  fire  still  smouldered  in  the 
grate ;  my  watch  told  me  I  had  not  been  more  than  half  an  hour 


"Early  the  next  morning  I  joined  an  intimate  friend,  with  whom 
I  spent  much  of  my  time,  to  accompany  him,  as  was  my  daily  custom, 
to  the  Law  School.  We  talked  for  a  moment  of  various  topics,  when 
suddenly  he  interrupted  me  with  the  remark  that  he  had  dreamed 
strangely  of  me  the  night  before. 

"  '  Tell  me,'  I  asked  ;  k  what  was  it?' 

"  '  I  fell  asleep,'  he  said,  ;  about  twelve,  and  immediately  dreamed 
that  I  was  passing  through  a  narrow  street,  when  I  heard  noises  and 


ADMISSION  TO    THE  BAR.  35 

cries  of  murder.  Hurrying  in  the  direction  of  the  noise,  I  saw  you 
lying  on  your  back  fighting  with  a  rough  laboring  man,  who  held 
you  down.  I  rushed  forward,  but  as  I  reached  you  he  struck  you 
on  the  head  with  a  hatchet,  and  killed  you  instantly.  Many  of  our 
friends  were  there,  and  we  cried  bitterly.  In  a  moment  I  awoke, 
and  so  vivid  had  been  my  dream  that  my  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears.' 

"  '  What  sort  of  man  was  he?'  I  asked. 

11 1A  thick-set  man,  in  a  flannel  shirt  and  rough  trousers  :  his  hair 
was  uncombed,  and  his  beard  was  grizzly  and  of  a  few  days'  growth.' 

"  Within  a  week  I  was  in  Burlington,  New  Jersey.  I  called  at  a 
friend's  house. 

"  '  My  husband,'  said  his  wife  to  me,  *  had  such  a  horrid  dream 
about  you  the  other  night.  He  dreamed  that  a  man  killed  you  in  a 
street  fight.  He  ran  to  help  you,  but  before  he  reached  the  spot  your 
enemy  had  killed  you  with  a  great  club.' 

"  'Oh,  no,'  cried  the  husband  across  the  room  ;  'he  killed  you  with 
a  hatchet.' 

"  These  are  the  circumstances  as  I  recall  them.  I  remembered 
the  remark  of  old  Artaphernes,  that  dreams  are  often  the  result  of  a 
train  of  thought  started  by  conversation  or  reading,  or  the  incidents 
of  the  working  time,  but  I  could  recall  nothing,  nor  could  either  of 
my  friends  cite  any  circumstance  '  that  ever  they  had  read,  had  ever 
heard  by  tale  or  history,'  in  which  they  could  trace  the  origin  of  this 
remarkable  dream. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  very  truly  yours, 

"  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"  P.S. — I  may  add  that  these  friends  of  mine  were  personally  un 
known  to  each  other. 

"  The  first  one,  in  New  York,  dreamed  that  he  was  the  foremost 
who  reached  the  scene,  the  other  that  he  was  one  of  the  number  who 
followed  5  both  of  which  points  coincided  with  my  own  dream." 

Mr.  Brown  resumed  his  study  of  the  law  in  the  office 
of  Daniel  Dougherty,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia,  and  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  as  an  attorney  in  the  District  Court 
of  Common  Pleas,  December  18,  1869.  According  to  a 
note  of  congratulation  from  Mr.  Dougherty,  "he  passed 
the  best  examination  of  all  those  who  applied  at  that  time." 


36  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

He  devoted  himself  faithfully  to  his  legal  studies ;  but  in 
April,  1870,  he  went  again  to  Europe,  in  company  with 
William  P.  Pepper,  Esq.,  and  travelled  through  Sweden, 
Norway,  and  Russia,  countries  left  unvisited  in  his  former 
trip,  returning  home  the  following  November.  In  Russia 
the  constant  society  of  his  friend,  Eugene  Schuyler,  Esq., 
not  only  added  to  his  pleasure  but  his  profit  as  a  traveller. 
While  absent  he  wrote  several  letters  to  the  Philadelphia 
Press.  These  letters  show  descriptive  power  without  any 
clap-trap.  He  gives  in  one  of  them  an  account  of  u  The 
Derby  Day"  of  1870 : 

"A  thousand  notorieties  around.  There  is  the  famous  turfite 
So-and-so,  and  yonder  the  celebrated  jockey  who  won  the  Derby 
of  such  a  year.  That  man  in  a  white  hat  and  a  gray  coat,  with  a 
field-glass  hung  over  his  shoulder,  who  gesticulates  so  violently  to 
a  circle  of  the  sporting  gentry,  is  Tom  King.  Every  man  about 
you  is  shouting  to  his  companion.  Fellows  with  bands  on  their 
hats,  and  books  and  pencils  in  their  hands,  are  offering  bets  here 
and  there  in  all  directions.  On  the  stand  above  you  a  number  of 
ladies  have  already  taken  their  seats,  and  are  gazing  down  upon 
the  crowd  with  interested  faces,  hushed  into  silence  by  the  confusion 
and  wild  disorder.  There  is  royalty  close  by  you,  for  in  that  corner 
of  the  box  of  the  Jockey  Club  the  King  of  the  Belgians  is  chatting 
with  the  Prince  of  Wales.  But  you  turn  suddenly  from  royalty  as 
you  hear  some  one  exclaim,  'Look,  there's  Gladstone  1'  and  recog 
nize  in  the  box  above  you,  in  the  tallest  of  the  three  men  who  have 
just  entered,  the  strong,  grand,  thoughtful  face  of  the  prime  minister. 
It  is  whispered  that  he  was  never  before  seen  at  a  race,  and  thou 
sands  of  curious  eyes  are  fixed  upon  him." 

While  battling  about  in  the  English  Channel,  he  thinks 
that,  though  a  hundred  recipes  and  drinks  have  been  in 
vented,  "there  is  no  cure  for  sea-sickness  like  smooth 
water."  In  one  of  his  letters  from  Northern  Europe  he 
gives  a  bit  of  description  of  Swedish  scenery  on  the  ride 
towards  Stockholm : 


LETTERS  FROM  ABROAD.  37 

"  Frederickshall  lies  between  two  lofty  hills  at  the  mouth  of  a 
little  river  that  pours  into  the  sea.  From  it  to  a  point  in  Sweden 
called  Strand  a  new  road  has  just  been  opened  through  a  lovely 
country.  We  started  in  carioles  early  in  the  afternoon.  The 
cariole  has  been  often  enough  described  to  me,  and  it  answers 
perfectly  the  description.  For  the  first  hour  or  two  the  motion  was 
dreadful,  especially  when  we  had  to  go  slowly.  You  sit  in  a  sort 
of  leather  box  hung  between  two  long  springing  shafts,  and  when 
the  horse  walks  or  trots  slowly  you  are  tumbled  up  and  down,  this 
side  and  that,  all  at  once.  When  he  goes  rapidly  and  down-hill,  or 
fairly  runs,  the  motion  is  more  regular  and  your  misery  less  acute. 
However,  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours'  driving  the  disagreeableness 
disappears,  and  I  fancy  that  cariole  driving  may  become  with  prac 
tice  easy,  just  as  camel  riding  in  the  East.  One  could  hardly 
imagine  a  more  picturesque  road  than  that  which  leads  from  Fred 
erickshall  to  Strand.  For  a  time  it  follows  the  rocky  banks  of  the 
torrent  which  meets  the  sea  at  Frederickshall,  and  then  turning 
aside  between  two  lofty  hills  descends  to  the  banks  of  an  exquisite 
lake,  in  the  bosom  of  which  lie  twenty  bright  green  islets.  Now 
it  winds  around  the  shoulder  of  a  rugged  hill,  and  again  sweeps 
down  into  a  peaceful  valley  filled  with  fields  of  grain,  and  then, 
as  if  tired  of  civilization,  plunges  suddenly  into  the  depths  of  a 
dark  forest.  On  every  side  gigantic  trees  of  great  girth  interlace 
their  dark  branches,  wrapped  in  a  drapery  of  moss  that  clings 
about  them  and  sweeps  upon  the  ground,  till  they  look  like  ghosts 
of  the  old  demi-gods,  clad  in  the  mouldering  garments  of  the 
grave,  shaking  their  hoary  arms  threateningly  at  the  adventurous 
traveller  who  dares  invade  their  solitude.  Deeper  and  deeper 
your  narrow  path  winds  into  the  forest.  Great  rocks  lie  scattered 
around,  and  the  thick  branches  overhead  make  a  perpetual  twilight. 
Suddenly  the  scene  changes.  You  come  out  upon  the  shores  of 
a  little  lake,  and  a  flock  of  ducks  rise  in  haste  and  fly  off  with 
loud  whistling  of  their  wings.  You  have  left  the  whispering  pines 
and  the  hemlocks,  and  the  bright  sunlight  shines  down  upon  the 
dusty  road.  So  the  scene  changes  again  and  again  until  you 
have  passed  the  lovely  lakes  and  begin  to  descend  into  a  valley, 
in  which,  by  the  shore  of  an  eleventh  one,  you  see  the  smoke  rising 
from  the  smoke-stack  of  a  steamer.  Here  you  bid  adieu  to  your 
cariole." 


38  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  A R MITT  BROWN. 

In  another  letter  there  is  a  sunny  picture  of  Elsinore : 

"  One  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  all  Europe  is  certainly  Elsinore. 
The  sun  was  shining  brightly  on  the  old  castle,  and  the  blue  sea 
was  whitened  with  sails.  The  coast  of  Sweden,  wooded  to  the  very 
shore,  with  here  and  there  the  towers  of  a  chateau  peeping  above 
the  trees,  looked  smilingly  across  the  narrow  straits,  and  on  the 
Danish  side  the  white  beach  with  a  strip  of  meadow,  and  then  tall 
banks,  waving  with  their  dark-green  trees,  stretched  from  the  town 
far  away  northward.  Kronberg  is  a  fine  old  pile  with  pointed 
towers,  and,  standing  on  the  point  where  the  straits  are  narrowest, 
looms  up  imposingly,  especially  when  looked  at  from  the  sea.  But 
that  which  fills  the  mind  at  the  mention  of  Elsinore  is  not  the  old 
castle,  nor  the  older  town,  nor  the  beautiful  streets,  nor  the  enchant 
ing  picture  of  land,  sea,  and  sky.  At  first  I  was  disposed  to  be 
merry  with  the  Hamlet  idea,  and  sent  a  servant  to  inquire  if  the 
Lord  Hamlet  was  within.  One  fellow  had  never  heard  of  his  lord 
ship,  but  his  more  learned  comrade  answered  that  he  was  dead  and 
buried  in  the  rear  of  the  hotel.  But  the  very  air  of  Elsinore  fills 
you  with  thoughts  of  the  sweet  prince.  I  thought  and  dreamed 
and  talked  of  Hamlet,  until  I  felt  like  a  walking  edition  of  the  play 
bound  in  cloth.  How  easy  to  imagine  that  yonder  orchard,  sloping 
to  the  sea,  was  the  scene  where  the  old  king  was  sleeping,  his 
*  custom  alway  of  the  afternoon,'  or  that  in  the  church-yard  close 
by  occurred  the  stormy  meeting  with  Laertes ;  and  I  found  it  hard 
to  realize,  as  I  looked  out  that  night  to  where  the  moon,  struggling 
with  the  clouds,  touched  with  silver  the  castle  battlements,  that  it 
was  not  upon  that  very  platform,  on  just  such  a  night,  that  Hamlet 
trembled  before  the  apparition  of  his  father." 

He  speaks  of  the  pleasing  character  of  the  voyage  from 
Stockholm  to  St.  Petersburg,  descending  the  river-like  gulf 
with  its  countless  islands,  until  you  emerge  into  the  Baltic 
and  soon  enter  the  archipelago,  which,  under  the  name  of 
the  Aland  Islands,  stretches  almost  continuously  from  the 
Swedish  to  the  Finnish  coast.  In  Russia  he  visited  Moscow 
and  Nijni-Novgorod,  giving  crisp  touches  of  life  as  well  as 
of  scenery : 


LETTERS  FROM  ABROAD.  39 

"  The  hotter  the  weather  the  more  the  Russian  clothes  himself. 
Even  the  boys  go  about  muffled  in  heavy  coats,  and  at  noon  on  the 
warmest  day,  when  the  heat  is  intense,  the  Russian  is  to  be  seen  on 
the  open  squares  of  St.  Petersburg  wrapped  in  his  enormous  over 
coat.  He  is  much  more  indulgent  to  his  legs,  for  they  are  often 
clad  in  white  linen  trousers,  the  effect  of  which,  peeping  beneath  a 
heavy  overcoat,  is  rather  odd,  and  gives  the  appearance  of  a  figure 
draped  to  illustrate  the  changes  of  the  seasons,  with  midwinter 
about  the  body  and  midsummer  at  the  extremities. 

"  Had  the  famous  tea  of  Boston  been  Russian  l  chai,'  brought 
overland  instead  of  being  tossed  half  a  year  on  the  ocean,  our  fore 
fathers,  who  threw  it  into  the  harbor,  would  have  been  patriots 
indeed!  Perhaps  they  thought  the  sacrifice  enough  as  it  was, 
though  *  they  fought  and  bled  and  died'  without  having  known  the 
purpose  for  which  tea  was  created.  In  Russia  it  is  no  thin  watery 
liquid,  pale  with  milk  or  cream,  handed  about  in  tiny  cups  to  be 
sipped  by  gossiping  lips ;  it  is  a  rich,  clear  amber,  poured  while 
boiling  hot  into  tall  tumblers  of  thin  glass,  and  delicately  sweet 
ened.  It  is  the  Russian  beverage  day  and  night,  and  everywhere 
you  find  it  of  the  best. 

"But  the  most  interesting  spot,  and  the  first  sought  by  the 
stranger,  is  Mont  Plaisir,  where  the  great  Peter  died.  It  is  a  little 
low  villa,  consisting  of  a  large  hall,  with  a  row  of  small  chambers 
on  either  side.  It  stands  on  a  terrace,  close  by  the  water's  edge, 
and  it  was  while  watching  the  bay  with  his  spy-glass  from  the 
terrace  that  the  Czar  saw  a  boat  in  trouble,  and  hastening  to  the 
rescue  caught  the  cold  that  cost  him  his  life.  He  died  in  a  little 
room  opening  out  of  the  great  hall.  Behind  a  tall  screen  is  the 
iron  bedstead  on  which  he  breathed  his  last ;  the  sheets  and  pillow 
lie  upon  it,  and  his  faded  silk  dressing-gown  is  folded  at  the  foot. 
His  slippers  are  on  the  floor  close  by,  and  everything  is  preserved 
as  it  was  on  the  day  of  his  death." 

At  the  famous  fair  of  Nijni-Novgorod  he  seemed  to 
think  that  it  was  indeed  a  great  "  sell,"  since  things  of  no 
value  were  exposed  for  sale  as  well  as  valuables;  that  it 
was  "a -matter  of  degrees,"  as  the  French  judge  said  to 
Dumas  when  the  latter  was  hesitating  to  describe  himself  as 
a  dramatic  author.  He  pictures  one  old  fellow,  "  bearded, 


40  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

venerable,  and  indescribably  dirty,  sitting  in  the  sun  by 
a  piece  of  old  cloth,  on  which  a  few  rags,  some  broken 
glasses,  and  an  ancient  newspaper  or  two  were  tastefully 
arranged  for  sale.  I  may  do  his  stock  injustice, — there 
might  have  been  a  nail  or  two." 

Upon  Mr.  Brown's  second  return  home  he  settled  him 
self  down  to  his  professional  studies.  He  shook  off  the 
slight  dilettantism,  which  was  the  mingled  product  of  a 
fondness  for  society  and  the  cherishing,  in  a  time  of  life 
betwixt  the  ideal  and  the  actual,  of  something  of  a  Hamlet- 
like  spirit  of  thoughtful  inaction,  or  "  scruple  of  thinking 
too  precisely  on  the  event."  He  was  a  dreamer,  though 
an  earnest  one.  As  in  college,  while  ever  pondering  it,  he 
had  not  found  his  work.  He  had  not  heard  the  bugle-call. 
He  talked  of  the  "  palmam  non  sine  pulvere"  but  he  did 
not  descend  into  the  dust  of  the  strife.  The  associations  of 
early  years  clung  about  him,  and  he  was  more  of  a  loiterer 
in  those  green  imaginative  meads  than  a  laborer  in  the  real 
field.  But  he  was  ready  to  do  whatever  was  congenial  to 
him.  He  became  greatly  interested  in  the  organization  of 
the  Yale  Alumni  Club  of  Philadelphia,  in  1871,  of  whose 
executive  committee  he  was  a  most  executive  secretary, 
writing,  speaking,  and  laboring  in  every  way  for  it ;  and 
to  the  end  of  his  life  he  was  one  of  its  most  efficient  mem 
bers,  diffusing  much  of  his  enthusiasm  into  this  and  other 
similar  associations  which  were  founded  one  after  another 
throughout  the  country.  He  frequently  spoke  in  his  neat, 
sensible,  but  modest  style  at  the  dinners  given  in  Phila 
delphia,  New  York,  and  other  cities ;  and  when  he  did  not 
speak,  he  sang,  or  rather,  furnished  the  songs. 

This  leads  us  to  notice  a  more  extended  flight  of  his 
muse  in  the  poem  delivered  at  Providence,  Rhode  Island, 
before  the  Thirty-eighth  Annual  Convention  of  the  Psi 


PS  I   UPSILON  POEM.  41 

Upsilon  Fraternity,  held  with  the  Sigma  Chapter  of  Brown 
University.  This  was,  perhaps,  his  best  poetic  effort.  It 
is  bright  and  pure,  as  everything  he  did  was.  It  is  musical, 
and  deals  with  difficult  metres  such  as  young  poets  are  apt 
to  mesh  themselves  in,  with  an  easy  mastery  of  rhythm. 
It  is  well  conceived,  too,  and  has  a  more  earnest  ring  than 
anything  heretofore.  It  awakes  a  faint  recollection  of 
Edgar  Poe's  "  Raven"  in  its  changing  melody,  its  vague 
and  fanciful  plot.  It  won  a  kindly  word  from  Bret  Harte, 
who  pronounced  it  "  clever,"  as  well  as  praise  from  others, 
which  he  valued  not  less. 

Among  the  many  institutions  of  a  highly  cultivated  and 
literary  city  like  Philadelphia,  there  is  none  more  quaint 
than  the  "  Shakspeare  Society,"  which,  it  is  enough  to  say, 
numbers  among  its  members  Horace  Howard  Furness, 
Esq.,  editor  of  the  New  Variorum  edition  of  Shakspeare. 
Meeting  together  in  an  upper  room,  hung  around  with 
historical  pictures,  and  provided  amply  with  the  best 
Shakspearian  editions,  dictionaries,  and  commentaries,  this 
truly  "  worshipfull  societie"  (mostly  composed  of  lawyers) 
do  excellent  work,  "which,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  will  not  all 
be  lost  and  "turne  to  ashes"  with  the  smoke  of  their 
pipes.  Mr.  Brown  was  an  active  member  of  this  club, 
and  the  thorough  philologic  drill  of  these  critical  evenings 
in  contact  with  Shakspeare  did  his  style  no  injury.  It 
grew  more  Saxon,  nervous,  and  idiomatic.  The  influence 
of  his  study  of  Shakspeare,  as  well  as  of  Horace,  after 
leaving  college,  is  perceptible  in  its  power  upon  his  oratory, 
giving  it  elegant  finish,  condensation,  and  tactical  dexterity 
in  dealing  with  mind.  At  the  annual  dinner  of  the  society, 
26th  of  April,  upon  the  birthday  of  "  Gulielmus  Filius 
Johannes  Shakspere"  his  hand  is  seen  in  the  culling  of 
choice  citations,  like  spicy  flowers,  from  that  portion  of  the 

4 


42  MEMOIR    OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

bard's  works  which  had  been  studied  during  the  preceding 
winter. 

"Theyearely  course  that  brings  this  day  about, 
Shall  never  see  it,  but  a  holy  day." 

Leaving  these  lighter  intellectual  excursions,  wholesome 
as  well  as  pleasant  though  they  may  have  been,  we  come  to 
the  professional  and  legal  period  of  Mr.  Brown's  life.  He 
buckled  himself  to  his  work  in  right  man-fashion.  We 
find  his  name  in  the  courts  doing  the  tasks  and  the  drudg 
ery  that  usually  fall  to  the  lot  of  the  young  attorney.  He 
had  begun  to  appreciate  the  sensible  words  of  another: 
"  Of  all  the  work  that  produces  results,  nine-tenths  must 
be  drudgery.  There  is  no  work,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest,  which  can  be  done  well  by  any  man  who  is  unwill 
ing  to  make  that  sacrifice.  Part  of  the  very  nobility  of  the 
devotion  of  the  true  workman  to  his  work  consists  in  the 
fact  that  a  man  is  not  daunted  by  finding  that  drudgery  must 
be  done ;  and  no  man  can  really  succeed  in  any  walk  of  life 
without  a  good  deal  of  what  in  ordinary  English  is  called 
pluck.  That  is  the  condition  of  all  work  whatever,  and  it 
is  the  condition  of  all  success.  Lawyers  acquire  the  faculty 
of  resolutely  applying  their  minds  to  the  driest  documents 
with  tenacity  enough  to  end  in  the  perfect  mastery  of  their 
contents ;  a  feat  which  is  utterly  beyond  the  capacity  of  any 
undisciplined  intellect,  however  gifted  by  nature."  He 
plodded  patiently  through  the  "  briefless"  desert  that  leads 
to  the  Promised  Land.  He,  however,  acquitted  himself 
with  credit  whenever  an  opportunity  came  for  him  to 
speak  as  junior  counsel  in  the  conduct  of  cases.  Thus, 
in  the  trial  of  his  first  murder  case,  before  the  Oyer  and 
Terminer  Court,  in  the  month  of  April,  1871,  he  showed, 
for  a  young  man,  according  to  the  testimony  of  the  legal 


PROFESSIONAL   LIFE.  43 

gentlemen  engaged,  uncommon  ability  and  acumen.  It 
was  a  case  of  identification.  There  was  some  variation  in 
the  evidence,  which  was  skilfully  seized  upon  and  made  use 
of  by  the  defence.  Mr.  Brown's  conduct  of  the  case,  as 
well  as  that  of  his  colleague,  were  complimented  highly 
by  the  opposing  counsel  for  the  Commonwealth,  and  were 
characterized  as  "  worthy  of  older  practitioners"  ;  and  this 
was  said  in  reference  to  notably  shrewd  Philadelphia  law 
yers,  to  each  of  whom,  doubtless,  the  words  of  Juvenal 
would  apply : 

"Qui juris  nodos  et  legum  cenigmata  solvat" 

In  the  report  of  the  case,  the  close  of  Mr.  Brown's  argu 
ment  was  characterized  as  "  affecting,  and  was  listened  to 
with  marked  attention."  His  admirable  conduct  of  the 
case  and  his  strong  speech  doubtless  saved  the  man.  After 
this  Mr.  Brown  was  engaged  from  time  to  time  in  criminal 
and  other  cases  of  more  or  less  importance,  always  acquit 
ting  himself  well  and  giving  his  best  efforts  to  his  work. 
Whether,  if  he  had  lived  longer,  he  would  have  come 
under  the  category  mentioned  by  Rufus  Choate  that  "  case- 
losing  lawyers  would  have  no  cases  to  lose"  we  know  not, 
but  he  assuredly  made  an  uncommonly  successful  begin 
ning,  and  awakened  high  hopes  of  future  eminence  at  the 
bar.  One  public  speech  of  his  deserves  fuller  notice,  as 
bringing  him  at  once  into  prominence  in  the  profession  as 
a  man  of  brilliant  oratorical  powers. 

On  the  19th  of  December,  1872,  a  complimentary  dinner 
was  given  at  the  Continental  Hotel,  by  the  Philadelphia 
Bar,  to  the  Hon.  ex-Chief-Justice  Thompson.  There  was 
a  very  large  assembly  of  the  bar,  and  of  the  judges  of  the 
various  courts.  The  best  legal  talent  of  the  city  was  repre 
sented.  The  guests  numbered  some  three  hundred.  It 


44  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  most  marked  and  impressive  occa 
sions  of  the  kind  which  had  ever  taken  place  in  the  city. 
Peter  McCall,  Esq.,  who  presided,  responded  to  the  first 
regular  toast,  and  was  followed  by  Chief-Justice  Read, 
Hon.  George  W.  Woodward,  Hon.  Morton  McMichael,  and 
many  other  distinguished  gentlemen.  While  the  speeches 
now  and  then  scintillated  with  humor,  they  were  mostly 
solid  addresses,  befitting  the  dignified  and  thoroughly  pro 
fessional  character  of  the  occasion.  The  eighth  and  last 
regular  toast  of  the  evening  was : 

"  The  Juniors  of  the  Bar." 

— "  illi  turba  Clientiuin 
Sit  major."— Hor.  Od. 

"We  are  all  engaged  in  the  same  ministry, — we  are  one  brother 
hood, — members  of  one  common  profession,  of  which  we  have  a  right 
to  be  proud." — Mr.  Justice  Sharswood,  Bar  Dinner,  1867. 

41  Et  vosmetipsos  sic  eruditos  ostendite,  ut  spes  vos  pulcherrima 
foveat,  toto  legitimo  opere  perfecto,  posse  etiam  nostram  rempubli- 
cam  in  partibus  ejus  vobis  credendis  gubernari." — Just.  Proem. 

This  was  responded  to  by  Henry  Armitt  Brown,  Esq., 
in  the  following  words : 

"  MR.  PRESIDENT, — Somewhere  in  the  varied  reading  of  a  boyhood, 
from  which,  as  you  have  no  doubt  observed,  I  have  but  recently 
emerged,  I  remember  to  have  found  an  anecdote  of  the  elephant. 
In  a  truthful  work,  compiled  by  a  philanthropic  lady,  called  'Anec 
dotes  of  Animals,'  you  will  find  it  somewhere  written  that  it  is  the 
habit  of  those  sagacious  brutes,  when  they  come  to  a  deep  and  rapid 
river,  to  send  over  first  the  smallest  of  the  herd,  assured  that  if  he 
ford  it  in  safety  the  largest  may  attempt  the  crossing  without  incon 
venience  or  danger.  To-night,  sir,  you  have  reversed  this  proceed 
ing.  One  by  one  the  leaders  of  this  company  have  passed  this 
current  of  good-fellowship  with  firm  footsteps  and  majestic  tread, 
and  now,  safe  upon  the  other  side,  you  summon  to  the  crossing  the 
smallest  of  you  all,  that  from  your  places  of  ease  and  security  you 


SPEECH  AT  THE   THOMPSON  DINNER.  45 

may  enjoy  his  flounderings.  I  represent  that  portion  of  the  Junior 
Bar  which  may  be  called  the  "  great  unemployed."  I  speak  for  those 
unfortunates  to  whom,  thus  far,  the  law  has  seemed  less  of  a  practice 
than  of  a  profession.  I  am  well  aware,  sir,  that  in  the  early  days  of 
our  seniors  at  the  bar  things  were  quite  different.  I  am  credibly 
informed  that  in  their  time  the  client  did  the  waiting,  not  the  lawyer. 
When  they  had  crammed  into  two  years  the  work  of  seven, — when 
they  had  skimmed  through  such  text-books  as  chance  and  their  in 
clinations  had  suggested, — when  they  had  satisfied  the  inquiring 
minds  of  the  board  of  examiners  as  to  the  action  of  assumpsit  or  the 
estate  in  fee-simple, — they  doubtless  found  an  impatient  turba  client- 
ium  awaiting  their  coming  from  the  examination-room,  burning  to 
seek  their  counsel  and  cram  their  pockets  with  glittering  fees.  The 
times  are  changed ;  clients  are  changed,  .and  we  have  fallen  on  de 
generate  days.  We  sit  long  years  in  solitude.  Like  Mariana,  in  the 
moated  grange,  '  He  cometh  not,  she  said.'  Day  follows  day,  and 
months  run  into  years.  No  tender-hearted  corporation  is  moved  by 
our  condition  :  hardly  an  assault  and  battery  attacks  our  leisure ; 
rarely  does  even  the  voice  of  the  defendant  in  an  action  for  slander 
startle  the  stillness  of  our  lives.  And  we  are  often  condemned  to 
the  experience  of  Tantalus.  One  sees  a  stream  of  clients  pour  into 
the  office  of  a  friend  near  by  ;  another  is  kept  in  a  chronic  anxiety 
by  the  knock  of  prosperous-looking  laymen,  who  mistake  his  office 
for  another  man's ;  while  a  third  finds  it  part  of  his  daily  trial  to  see 
the  most  promising  processions  in  full  march  for  his  office  diverted 
from  their  purpose  and  turned  aside  by  the  wickedly  enticing  wide- 
open  doors  of  an  envious  neighboring  savings-fund.  Thus,  sir,  we  seem 
doomed  to  sit  solitary  and  alone,  while  our  offices,  like  the  unhappy 
country  of  the  patriotic  Irishman,  'literally  swarm  with  absentees.' 
But  we  are  not  altogether  without  hope.  The  flower  that  is  born  to 
blush  unseen  may  cherish  in  its  petals  the  hope  of  being  plucked  by 
rosy  fingers ;  the  gem  of  purest  ray  may  still  expect  to  glitter  on  the 
broad  shirt  front  of  some  prosperous  capitalist.  I  have  seen  it  re 
cently  asserted,  on  no  less  an  authority  than  a  daily  evening  news 
paper,  that  it  is  in  the  nature  of  mankind  to  hope.  Shall  we  despair? 
There  may  be  those  among  us  to  whom  dulness  is  not  dreary  nor 
idleness  irksome.  There  may  be  in  our  midst  mental  dyspeptics,  of 
whom  some  one  has  wittily  said  '  that  they  devour  many  books  and 
can  digest  none.1  We  may  have  among  us  ingenuous  youths  like  the 


46  MEMOIR  OF  HENRY  A R MITT  BROWN. 

New  York  law  student  who  thought  the  feudal  system  \vas  lands, 
tenements,  and  hereditaments,  and  originated  in  New  York  City;  or 
when  asked  whether  a  husband's  infidelity  was  a  ground  for  divorce, 
did  not  exactly  comprehend  the  question,  and  begged  to  ask,  'Am  I 
to  understand  by  that  word  "  infidelity"  that  the  husband  of  the 
woman  denied  the  existence  of  a  Supreme  Being?'  We  may  be 
good  and  bad,  yet  there  are  brains  among  us  that  will  be  working, 
and  tongues  that  will  not  rest  forever  dumb.  In  the  solitude  of  our 
offices, — a  solitude  broken  only  by  the  visits  of  men  rightly  termed 
men  of  assurance,  who  seek  unselfishly  to  induce  us  to  lay  up  treas 
ures  beyond  the  grave,  or  by  those  of  beggars,  whose  theory  seems 
to  hold  that  the  office  of  the  youthful  lawyer  is  the  chosen  abode  of 
that  charity  which  is  kind,  no  matter  how  much  or  how  long  it  suf- 
fereth, — in  that  rarely  invaded  solitude  we  are  nursing  hope.  Do  we 
not  right,  sir,  as  we  sit  there  without  even  the  memory  of  a  client  with 
which  to  people  our  cane-bottomed  chairs,  to  dream  of  knots  that  may 
need  our  untying,  of  shadowy  corporations  of  the  future  seeking  for 
counsel,  of  railroads  not  yet  enjoined?  May  we  not  expect  the  day 
when  the  tread  of  the  client  will  resound  through  the  entry,  and  his 
voice  clamor  for  admittance  at  the  door,  when  we,  too,  jostled  by  a 
turba  clientium  maxima,  shall  sally  forth  into  the  forum  to  argue 
points  yet  undreamed  of,  and  puzzle  jurors  yet  unborn? 

"  But  if  it  be  a  long  time  before  we  become  entitled  to  the  duties 
and  responsibilities  of  our  profession,  to  some  of  its  privileges  we 
are  admitted  at  once.  From  the  moment  of  our  adoption  into  its 
ranks  we  are  made  to  feel  the  influence  of  that  fraternal  feeling 
which  is  one  of  the  chief  glories  of  the  Philadelphia  Bar.  We  feel 
it  everywhere,  at  all  times, — in  the  forbearance  of  the  elders ;  in 
the  respect  of  equals ;  in  the  veneration  of  the  young.  It  is  proof 
against  all  attacks,  and  survives  the  bitterness  of  every  contention. 
I  see  around  me  men  who  were  yesterday, 'and  perhaps  will  be  to 
morrow,  arrayed  against  each  other  in  intellectual  combat.  The 
passions  of  the  fight  have  vanished ;  the  heaviest  blow  has  made  no 
bruise ;  the  fiercest  thrust  has  left  no  scar.  And  here,  where  the 
united  bar  has  assembled  to  honor  one  whose  learning  and  character 
has  so  long  added  strength  and  lustre  to  his  great  office, — here 
among  the  leaders  of  the  bar,  even  the  youngest  feel  that  there  is 
room  for  them.  And  following  in  their  turn,  they  too  may  press 
forward  to  lay  at  his  feet  their  tribute  of  veneration  and  respect. 


SPEECH  AT  THE   THOMPSON  DINNER.  47 

"  In  the  words  of  another  honored  guest,  whose  courtesy  and 
thoughtfulness  and  unfailing  kindness  have  done  so  much  to  impress 
upon  the  juniors  of  the  bar  their  sincerity  and  truth, — in  your 
words,  sir,  fitly  quoted  here,  '  We  are  one  brotherhood.'  Old  and 
young  alike.  Yoked  in  the  same  ministry,  cherishing  the  same  tra 
ditions,  inheriting  the  same  history,  taught  by  the  same  examples ! 
Long  may  Providence  preserve  those  honored  lives !  Long  may  you 
both  shed  the  light  of  living  examples  on  your  younger  brethren ! 
Long  may  you  taste  the  reward  of  your  labor  in  the  calm  enjoyment 
of  completed  fame  !  Vivite  f dices  quibus  est  fortuna  peracta  ! 

11  The  years  are  fleeting ;  and  on  us,  in  our  turn,  must  fall  the 
responsibilities  and  trusts  of  life.  Then  when  time  shall  have  made 
us  stronger,  and  suffering  more  patient,  if  we  have  been  earnest  in 
endeavor,  firm  in  purpose,  honest  in  emulation,  true  to  our  exem 
plars  and  ourselves,  the  bar  that  has  so  often  found  them  in  the 
generations  of  yesterday  and  to-day  may  not  search  hopelessly 
among  her  servants  of  to-morrow  for  the  skill,  the  learning,  the  elo 
quence,  the  strict  integrity,  the  calm  devotion  to  his  threefold  duty 
which  make  the  perfect  lawyer;  nor  our  Republic  seek  in  vain 
among  her  younger  children  for  that  broad  and  generous  statesman 
ship  which  embraces  all  humanity,  is  firm,  benevolent,  consistent, 
which,  lifted  above  the  passions  of  the  hour,  acts  not  for  to-day  but 
for  all  time, — tried  though  it  may  be  by  both  extremes  of  fortune, 
still  stands  four-square  to  all  the  winds  that  blow. 

11  I  am  but  one  in  this  company,  and  stand  on  the  threshold  of 
professional  life.  I  am  altogether  unworthy  to  speak  for  my 
brethren  of  the  younger  bar,  and  yet,  to-night,  I  feel  their  hearts 
beating  with  my  heart,  and  hear  their  voices  ring  in  mine,  bidding 
me  tell  you  that  we  seek  no  higher  glory  and  cherish  no  loftier  am 
bition  than  to  tread  worthily  in  the  footsteps  of  our  fathers,  and  at 
the  end  of  lives  of  usefulness,  and  it  may  be  of  honor,  to  hand  down 
unspotted  and  unstained  the  institutions  they  committed  to  our  care 
into  the  keeping  of  their  children's  children's  sons." 

There  had  been  some  slight  astonishment  expressed,  and 
perhaps  a  little  touch  of  prejudice  excited,  by  the  announce 
ment  of  Mr.  Brown's  name  as  one  to  fill  this,  in  some  re 
spects,  responsible  position ;  and  this  might  very  naturally 
be  accounted  for  from  the  fact  that  he  was  so  recent  a 


48  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

member  of  the  bar,  and  as  yet  comparatively  unknown. 
But  all  such  feelings  were  dispelled  like  mists  the  instant 
the  clear  and  calm  tones  of  his  exquisitely  finished  elocu 
tion  fell  upon  the  ear.  The  modesty,  the  manliness,  the 
wit,  the  good  sense,  and  the  elevated  closing  sentences  of 
the  address  confirmed  the  good  impression  made,  and  there 
was  but  one  opinion,  most  enthusiastically  expressed,  as  to 
its  merit.  Although  coming  at  the  end  of  a  long  and 
exhausting  evening  of  speaking,  it  was  listened  to  with 
absolute  delight.  The  Legal  Gazette  of  December  27, 
1872,  in  noticing  the  bar  dinner,  remarked :  "  The  last- 
named  gentleman  (Henry  Armitt  Brown),,  in  response  to 
the  toast,  "The  Juniors  of  the  Bar,"  made  an  excellent 
and  appropriate  speech,  reflecting  credit  not  only  upon 
himself,  but  the  young  members  of  the  bar  in  general.  It 
was  decidedly  one  of  the  best  speeches  of  the  evening/' 
Another  paper  ( The  Legal  Intelligencer)  said  :  "  The  effort 
was  an  able  one,  and  during  its  delivery  received  the  atten 
tion  of  every  person  in  the  room."  The  Public  Ledger,  of 
Philadelphia,  characterized  it  as  "  one  of  the  most  marked 
orations  of  the  evening,  calling  forth  from  the  seniors  as 
well  as  the  juniors  the  heartiest  applause."  The  London 
(England)  Law  Times,  of  February  15,  1873,  thought  the 
lesson  of  the  speech,  as  commented  upon  by  the  Pittsburgh 
(Ohio)  Legal  Gazette,  "would  be  a  lesson  that  should  be 
taken  to  heart  by  the  junior  bar  of  England."  One  of  the 
young  lawyers  present  wrote  a  note  on  the  spot  to  a  member 
of  his  family,  containing  these  warm  words  of  praise:  "I 
cannot  go  to  bed  without  writing  a  line  to  tell  you  what  a 
triumph  Harry  has  had.  There  has  been  no  speech  in  my 
time,  by  a  Philadelphia  lawyer,  that  has  made  the  impres 
sion  his  did  to-night.  His  audience,  to  a  large  extent,  had 
to  be  conciliated,  and,  what  was  worse,  he  knew  it;  but  he 


POPULAR  LECTURES.  49 

conquered  every  prejudice,  and  when  he  finished  there  was 
not  one  dissenting  voice.  A  more  perfect  and  complete 
success  was  never  achieved  by  any  orator,  and  it  was  the 
best  men  of  the  bar  who  were  the  loudest  in  his  praise. " 
In  fact,  it  was  discovered  that  he  could  speak. 

This  discovery  that  Henry  Armitt  Brown  could  speak 
was  not  a  new  one  to  many.  In  the  Municipal  Reform 
Association  of  Philadelphia,  which  had  been  established 
previously  during  this  same  year,  he  had  already  taken  an 
active  part,  which  involved  much  public  speaking,  and  of 
a  kind  to  test  a  man's  metal, — but  before  alluding  to  this 
a  word  should  be  said  of  his  entrance  on  the  field  of  popu 
lar  lecturing.  It  came  about  in  a  natural  way,  and  from 
a  wish  to  help  on  good  objects.  His  first  lecture,  "  Hun 
dred-Gated  Thebes"  (one  of  a  course  of  four  lectures),  was 
originally  delivered  for  the  aid  of  a  benevolent  enterprise, 
and  was  heard  by  large  audiences  in  Philadelphia,  Burling 
ton,  and  many  other  places  within  and  without  the  State. 
One  of  the  notices  of  this  lecture,  in  the  Daily  Miner's 
Journal,  -Pottsville,  December  31,  1872,  falls  into  an 
amusing  error  about  his  antecedents:  "A  fine  audience 
assembled  last  evening  at  Union  Hall  to  hear  Mr.  Brown, 
son  of  the  late  David  Paul  Brown,  Esq.,*  who  is  a  rising 
young  lawyer  of  Philadelphia,  and  who  was  requested  by 
Daniel  Dougherty,  Esq.,  to  come  up  and  fill  his  engage 
ment  to  lecture, — Mr.  Dougherty  being  too  unwell  to  come. 
Mr.  Brown's  subject  was  'Thebes/  and  for  nearly  two 
hours  the  lecturer  held  his  audience  absorbed  and  inter 
ested  in  it  and  his  delightful  delivery.  He  is  a  fine 
speaker,  superior  even  to  his  father  in  his  palmiest  days." 

*  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  David  Paul  Brown  was  a 
Philadelphia  lawyer  of  celebrity,  especially  in  criminal  cases.  He 
was  born  in  1795  and  died  1872. 


50  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

Mr.  Brown  prepared  other  travel  lectures,  with  the  titles 
of  "A  Pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem/'  "From  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba,"  "  On  the  Acropolis" ;  and  he  delivered  them  first 
in  the  chapel  in  the  rear  of  St.  Andrew's  Church,  and  after 
wards  at  other  places.  In  these  performances  he  showed 
marked  descriptive  power  and  mother  wit,  but  his  mind  was 
an  earnest  one,  his  imagination  kindled  at  solemn  themes, 
and  the  thoughtful  aspects  of  his  semi-poetic  topics  were 
not  set  aside  for  sensational  effect  or  mere  amusement.  He 
would  have  risen  to  the  first  rank  in  the  popular  esteem 
had  he  followed  out  this  career.  He  had  every  qualification 
for  it,  and  would  have  rivalled  the  most  shining  names  in 
this  field.  As  it  was,  he  generally  spoke  for  some  philan 
thropic  object,  and  he  went  upon  the  principle,  Touch  the 
feelings  and  you  touch  the  pocket ;  arouse  the  imagination 
and  you  ennoble  and  enlarge  the  sympathies.  But  there 
was  something  better  than  this  for  him. 

Since  the  days  of  old  Rome  great  cities  have  been  centres 
of  power  and  also  of  corruption.  They  form  in  themselves 
political  units.  Immense  social  forces  are  concentrated  in 
them.  The  municipal  privileges  possessed  by  corporations, 
having  at  their  control  large  revenues  and  extensive  patron 
age,  are  strained  to  the  utmost.  The  irresponsibility  of 
corporate  powers  presents  a  temptation  to  extortion  from 
the  taxpayer.  The  taxpayer  suifers  from  the  immunity  of 
the  tax-maker.  It  does  not  much  matter  what  political 
party  is  dominant,  and  unless  there  is  honesty  somewhere, 
and  honesty  of  the  most  fearless  and  independent  sort, 
there  is  apt  to  be  outrageous  abuse  of  political  power. 
Such  a  state  of  things  leads  to  the  most  monstrous  frauds 
and  rapacities.  The  desperate  contest  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  which  cannot  soon  be  forgot,  differed  in  some  of  its 


MUNICIPAL  REFORM.  51 

phases  and  in  its  gigantic  proportions  from  that  in  Phila 
delphia,  which  city  not  long  before  had  been  declared  by 
good  authority  to  be  "  the  best  governed  in  the  Union,  and 
whose  local  legislators  were  distinguished  for  their  integrity 
and  devotion  to  duty,"  but  in  its  main  aspects  the  conflict 
was  the  same  in  Philadelphia  as  in  New  York,  and  was 
none  the  less  needful,  determined,  and  bitter.  Those  who 
demanded  reform  were  confined  to  no  class  of  society  or 
shade  of  political  sentiment.  The  vast  power  of  "  Muni 
cipal  Rings'7  demanded  the  most  extraordinary  efforts  to 
bring  about  their  overthrow. 

The  call  for  a  change  in  the  methods  of  political  action 
in  the  city  of  Philadelphia  culminated  at  the  beginning  of 
the  year  1872  in  the  formation  of  a  Citizens'  Municipal 
Reform  Association,  with  ward  organizations  and  central 
committees.  The  principles  of  the  association  struck  at 
the  root  of  political  abuse,  viz. :  the  matter  of  the  purity 
of  elections.  They  declared  that  important  offices  should 
be  in  the  hands  of  trustworthy  men  of  whatever  party. 
To  prove  the  unselfishness  of  their  motives  they  pledged 
themselves  not  to  hold  office  or  to  be  candidates  for  office. 
They  meant  to  do  thorough  work.  It  was  a  dispassionate 
movement  made  at  a  time  when  there  was  no  great  political 
excitement,  and  in  a  lull  between  the  national  elections.  The 
association  embraced  principles  like  these :  a  non-partisan 
registry  law ;  salaries  and  not  fees ;  no  interference  of  the 
Legislature  in  local  affairs ;  an  examination  by  the  people 
into  the  city  departments  to  learn  where  their  money  goes ; 
public  officers  to  be  the  servants  not  the  masters  of  their 
constituents  ;  a  determined  and  continuous  opposition  to  all 
rings  and  corrupt  politicians  of  both  parties ;  and  a  devo 
tion  to  the  best  interests  of  the  whole  city  of  Philadelphia 
and  the  Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania. 


52  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

From  the  earliest  beginning  of  this  Reform  movement 
Mr.  Brown  identified  himself  with  it.  His  moulding  hand 
is  seen  in  all  its  principles  and  acts.  His  energizing  spirit 
constantly  urged  it  on.  In  fact,  he  had  found  something 
to  do  worthy  of  him.  This  was  a  real  evil  to  attack.  It 
was  a  work  that  called  for  strong  men.  He  was  fairly 
woke  up.  We  date  his  public  life  and  his  public  greatness 
from  this  moment.  He  was  obliged  to  enter  the  fight  with 
able,  but  in  some  instances  uncongenial,  allies.  He  did 
not  shrink  from  any  fastidious  feeling  of  this  sort.  He 
was  willing  to  endanger  his  own  political  reputation  and 
chances.  He  struck  hands  with  all  who  were  resolved  on 
purifying  city  politics,  cost  what  it  might.  He  threw  his 
whole  force  into  this  agitation.  He  was  the  life  of  it 
while  his  connection  with  it  lasted,  which  was  essentially 
to  the  end  of  his  life.  He  was  active  in  organizing  the 
different  ward  associations.  He  was  a  frequent  and  fear 
less  speaker  in  all  parts  of  the  city.  He  and  his  associates 
had  to  contend  with  formidable  foes,  and  with  those  ele 
ments  of  unprincipled  force  to  be  found  only  in  great 
cities,  and  nowhere  more  reckless  and  ruffian  than  in 
Philadelphia.  He  sometimes  spoke  when  missiles  flew, 
but  he  calmed  the  excited  crowds  with  a  word.  His  self- 
possession  was  perfect.  The  tones  of  his  voice  exerted  a 
wonderfully  soothing  influence,  and  he  was  never  seriously 
interrupted.  In  one  great  mass-meeting  in  West  Phila 
delphia  he  was  the  first  speaker.  He  charged  that  out 
rageous  abuses  existed  in  the  city  government ;  he  declared 
that  the  time  had  come  for  radical  reform;  he  affirmed 
that  the  men  then  in  office  had  sought  their  places  ham 
pered  and  tied  by  promises  with  which  their  nominations 
were  bought,  and  that  they  wrongfully  administered  the 
offices  to  which  they  were  chosen.  He  boldly  dissected 


POLITICAL  LEADERSHIP.  53 

the  characters  of  office-holders.  He  exhibited  a  power  of 
rapid  character-analysis.  It  was  the  clean  and  fatal  rapier 
thrust.  He  said  the  severest  things  without  coarseness  or 
harshness.  He  said  what  every  one  felt  to  be  true.  When 
ever  a  political  demagogue  fell  writhing  under  his  thrust, 
as  boys  say,  "  he  did  not  know  what  hurt  him" ;  but  it  wras 
simply  truth  spoken  in  the  keenest  manner.  He  did  not 
appeal  to  men's  passions,  but  to  the  best  that  was  in  them. 
His  style  was  eminently  '*  sweetness  and  light,"  the  per 
suasiveness  of  a  consciously  honest  soul.  While  he  could 
be  scathingly  sarcastic,  his  real  sweetness  rarely  permitted 
him  to  be  so.  He  preferred  the  weapons  of  truth  and 
calmness.  "  The  gentle  mind  by  gentle  deeds  is  known." 
Some  of  his  colleagues  were  noble  idealists;  others  were 
ennobled  by  the  idea  of  reform;  but  there  was  no  one 
who  was  more  thoroughly,  unselfishly,  and  practically  a 
reformer  than  himself.  By  the  testimony  of  his  friends  in 
this  struggle  no  one  felt  what  he  was  doing  more  deeply 
than  himself.  He  acted  on  his  convictions  of  duty.  He 
thus  rose  up  at  once  to  be  a  leader.  Everybody  recognized 
him  as  such.  One  of  his  colleagues  said,  "  He  was  worth 
a  whole  army  corps  to  the  cause."  He  gave  no  pledges ; 
he  resorted  to  no  partisan  tricks.  If  he  aspired  to  political 
leadership  he  scorned  political  office.  His  speeches  grew 
more  and  more  weighty.  At  first  with  reluctance,  but 
then  with  delight  and  an  ever-increasing  sense  of  power, 
he  took  up,  at  the  request  of  one  of  his  friends  who  saw 
what  there  was  in  him,  the  practice  of  extemporaneous 
speaking.  He  came  to  like  it  immensely,  to  grow  easy 
under  its  difficulties,  and  to  rejoice  in  its  freedom.  His 
voice,  action,  and  thought  adapted  themselves  readily  to 
this  change  of  style,  and  many  a  crowded  and  turbulent 
assembly  acknowledged  the  sway  of  his  off-hand  address 


54  MEMOIR   OF  HENRF  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

and  cool,  finished  elocution.  By  this  means  he  acquired 
something  of  the  gladiatorial  power  of  Wendell  Phillips 
and  other  reform  speakers,  of  meeting  the  changing  exi 
gencies  of  assemblies,  and  of  prompt  repartee.  He  said 
of  a  political  and  notably  self-opinionated  opponent,  who 
on  one  occasion  was  accused  by  a  speaker  of  his  own  party 
of  being  an  "infidel"  :  "An  infidel, — not  so;  he  is  a  self- 
made  man,  and  he  worships  his  creator." 

He  has  been  blamed  for  acting  at  times  against  Repub 
lican  nominees  and  the  Republican  party,  while  he  was 
himself  an  avowed  Republican.  His  aim  was  higher  than 
party.  He  might  have  answered  in  the  words  put  in  the 
mouth  of  Savonarola  by  the  author  of  Romola:  "The 
cause  of  freedom,  which  is  the  cause  of  God's  kingdom 
upon  earth,  is  often  most  injured  by  those  who  carry  within 
them  the  power  of  certain  human  virtues.  The  wickedest 
man  is  often  not  the  most  insurmountable  obstacle  to  the 
triumph  of  good." 

But  there  was  a  new  field  beginning  to  present  itself  to 
his  claims  and  oratorical  powers,  which  served  for  a  time  to 
draw  off  his  attention,  though  not  his  heart,  from  the  cause 
of  municipal  reform, — it  was  the  opening  Centennial  epoch 
of  memorializing  the  great  events  of  the  country's  history. 
From  his  intense  love  of  the  past  and  of  the  memory  of  his 
ancestors,  he  had  always  been  drawn  to  historical  studies ; 
and  he  had  the  qualities  of  an  historian,  patience  in  original 
research,  love  of  exact  statement,  the  imagination  which 
comprehends  and  clothes  the  past  in  life,  and  a  picturesque 
style ;  and  if  he  had  become  tired  of  political  life,  it  is  the 
opinion  of  friends  who  knew  him  best  that  he  would  have 
devoted  himself,  as  he  often  talked  of  doing,  to  historical 
investigations.  The  splendid  career  of  Motley  attracted 


CENTENNIAL    MASS-MEETING.  55 

him,  as  it  has  other  young  men ;  and,  to  our  own  knowledge, 
for  some  time  after  leaving  college,  he  was  casting  about  for 
a  fit  theme  of  an  historical  nature  to  which  to  devote  his 
attention. 

There  were  two  occasions  of  a  more  or  less  historic  char 
acter  that  led  his  mind  naturally  to  take  a  vivid  interest  in 
the  Centennial  campaign  that  followed.  The  first  of  these 
was  an  anniversary  meeting  of  the  Lincoln  Institution, 
established  for  the  children  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  the 
civil  war,  which  was  held  January  17,  1873.  Mr.  Brown 
was  called  upon  to  speak  in  memory  of  Major-General 
George  G.  Meade,  the  recent  president  of  the  institution, 
who  had  died  a  short  time  previous.  The  closing  sentences 
of  this  address  were  as  follows : 

u  I  think  not  of  Meade  as  the  gallant  officer  stemming  the  tide  of 
disaster  at  Seven  Pines  or  Gaines's  Mill,  nor  as  the  skilful  general 
driving  his  routed  foe  from  Gettysburg,  but  rather  as  that  quiet,  self- 
contained  man,  who,  in  the  stillness  of  his  tent,  received  the  order 
that  made  him  commander  of  a  demoralized  army  wearied  with 
forced  marches,  to  overtake,  on  its  own  soil,  its  triumphant  enemies, 
and  took  up  the  burden  without  a  murmur.  I  think  of  him  in  the 
last  years  of  his  well-spent  life,  not  as  the  laurel-crowned  hero  of  a 
tremendous  victory,  but  as  the  patriotic  citizen  moving  in  our  midst 
without  ostentation  or  display,  respected,  honored,  and  beloved.  And 
to-day,  speaking  of  him  in  this  place,  I  love  to  picture  him  as  one  in 
whose  heart  charity  had  found  a  refuge,  who  '  comforted  the  widow 
and  the  fatherless,  and  kept  himself  unspotted  from  the  world.'" 

The  second  occasion  to  which  we  allude  was  the  great 
mass-meeting  held  on  the  19th  of  April,  1873,  at  the 
Academy  of  Music,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Women's 
Centennial  Committee.  This  was  the  opening  gun  of  the 
Centennial  Exposition  campaign  in  Philadelphia,  which 
afterwards  filled  the  world  with  its  rumor.  The  vast 
assemblage  on  this  occasion  was  called  to  order  by  Mr. 


56  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

John  Welsh.  The  venerable  Eli  K.  Price,  a  represen 
tative  of  one  of  the  oldest  Quaker  families  of  Philadel 
phia,  presided.  Mr.  Brown  was  the  first  speaker.  His 
remarks  were  brief  but  pertinent,  and  applause  greeted 
the  conclusion  of  his  speech.  The  Philadelphia  Press,  in 
a  notice  of  the  prominent  addresses  of  the  evening,  says : 
"  The  speeches  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown  and  Daniel  Dough 
erty  were  finished  orations.  Mr.  Brown  is  young  in  our 
legal  public  circles,  but  will  live  to  an  old  future,  judged 
by  his  present  promise.  Mr.  Dougherty  is  always  young 
in  heart ;  and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  that  the  ripening  mind, 
while  it  gives  him  wisdom,  does  not  moderate  his  love  of 
country.  These  two  really  fine  orators  made  some  striking 
points,  and  in  style  and  ideas  they  made  a  capital  aggregate. 
What  they  said  will  be  remembered,  as  it  ought  to  be. 
Brown  starts  out  as  a  more  quiet  rhetorician,  a  sort  of 
young-old  man,  and  Dougherty,  after  two  decades  of  im 
pulsive  public  speaking,  adorns  middle  life  as  the  teacher  of 
a  highly  chastened  style.  In  the  audience  sat  two  great- 
granddaughters  of  Benjamin  Franklin, — Mrs.  Gillespie, 
chairman  of  the  Ladies'  Centennial  Committee  of  Thirteen, 
and  Mrs.  Emory,  wife  of  General  "W.  H.  Emory,  now  in 
command  of  the  Department  of  New  Orleans.  A  fact  like 
this  shows  how  near  we  are  to  the  Past ;  how  close  we  stand 
to  the  leaders,  inventors,  and  heroes  who,  by  their  wisdom, 
genius,  and  patriotism,  gave  and  preserved  us  a  nation." 

There  were  other  notices  not  so  flattering.  It  was  said 
that  Brown's  speech  was  too  "fine"  for  a  mass-meeting; 
that  he  was  young  and  had  a  great  deal  to  learn.  This 
criticism  caused  amusement  among  his  friends,  since  the 
meeting  was  simply  a  gathering  in  the  Academy  of  Music 
of  the  prominent  people  of  the  city,  and,  in  fact,  the 
assembly  was  entirely  lacking  in  the  element  which  goes 


DOMESTIC  AND  SOCIAL  LIFE,  57 

to  make  up  mass-meetings  generally.  The  Catholic  Herald, 
while  praising  the  address  as  "  evincing  culture,"  blamed 
his  allusion  to  "  liberated  Italy,"  and  said  that  the  idea 
was  a  "  stench  in  the  nostrils  of  every  Catholic.'7  It  may 
be  that  there  was  a  grain  of  truth  in  the  criticisms  of  his 
style.  Mr.  Brown's  tendency  was  to  elaboration  and  great 
carefulness  in  what  he  said  on  a  set  occasion,  having  con 
scientious  fear  lest  he  might  not  do  full  justice  to  his 
theme.  He  so  prepared  himself  as  to  insure  success,  and 
perhaps  sometimes  over-prepared.  But  criticism  was  pa 
tiently  received,  and  did  him  good.  He  never  attempted 
to  defend  himself  against  criticism,  but  silently  weighed 
its  worth,  and  suffered  it  to  have  its  corrective  influence. 
He  learned  from  his  foes. 

In  the  incessantly  busy  life  which  he  now  led,  he  had,  to 
cheer  him,  a  bright  home-life.  He  was  married  December 
7,  1871,  to  Miss  Josephine  Lea,  daughter  of  John  R. 
Baker,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia, — a  union  of  rare  happiness 
and  congeniality  of  mind.  His  house  became  a  centre  of 
hospitality  seasoned  with  wit.  His  own  companionable 
qualities,  his  literary  culture  and  reading,  his  incomparable 
skill  as  a  raconteur,  not  seeking  to  display  himself  but  to 
give  pleasure  to  others,  made  him  sought  for  in  the  most 
influential  circles ;  and  where  he  was,  though  ever  modest, 
he  was  sure  to  be  the  centre  of  conversation  as  naturally  as 
a  hearth-fire  in  winter  draws  around  it  all  in  the  room.  It 
was  a  heart-glow  at  which  all  warmed  themselves.  Like 
Tom  Hood  he  could  electrify  a  circle  by  his  stories,  his 
improvisations  and  humorous  representations  of  character, 
transforming  himself  into  Daniel  Webster,  Edwin  Forrest, 
an  Eastern  Shore  countryman  at  pleasure,  or  leading  on  to 
questions  of  political  and  public  moment ;  and  as  he  grew 
older  the  last  predominated,  and  here  was  seen  to  be  the 

5 


58  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

treasury  of  subjects  in  which  he  had  garnered  up  his 
inmost  thoughts.  He  grew  to  be  a  nobler  patriot  with  the 
growth  of  his  reflective  powers. 

But  the  place  where  his  soul  dwelt,  and  shone,  and 
glowed  like  a  luminous  lamp  fed  by  odorous  oil  at  mid 
night,  where  he  gathered  together  all  his  wandering  fan 
cies  without  fear  of  criticism,  was  his  own  room  in  the 
upper  part  of  his  house.  It  is  now  just  as  he  left  it,  with 
the  same  papers  lying  on  the  table  where  he  last  sat.  It 
is  a  low-studded  apartment  immediately  under  the  roof, 
and  poorly  lighted  from  without  at  mid-day.  Heavy 
beams  painted  red,  as  in  old  English  houses,  run  across  the 
ceiling.  Thick  tapestry  curtains  hang  before  the  windows, 
so  that  it  is  easy  to  exclude  the  daylight  or  to  turn  day 
into  night.  It  was  probably  of  these  curtain-hangings 
that  he  wrote  to  his  mother,  then  in  Europe,  "  Be  sure  and 
send  me  some  curtains  that  are  medieval,  feudal,  griffony, 
and  dragony, — you  know  what  I  mean."  In  the  wide- 
jambed  fireplace  the  gaping  chimney  lets  in  a  beam  of 
outside  sunshine  upon  a  great  bed  of  white  ashes,  wan 
relics  of  many  a  magnificent  wood-fire  whose  flames  danced 
upon  the  hearth  and  the  uncouth  fire-dogs.  On  the  man 
tel-piece  stand  curiously-twisted  brass  candlesticks  from 
Norway,  bronze  gods  from  Egypt,  small  marble  obelisks, 
tall  mugs  of  Bohemian  glass  with  colored  heraldic  devices. 
Over  these  in  the  centre  are  suspended  a  Russian  Byzantine 
painting  of  a  long-bearded  Greek  saint,  and  on  either  side 
large  photographs  of  the  heads  of  Goethe  and  Rufus 
Choate ;  the  last  a  gift  from  Mr.  Choate's  family  through 
James  T.  Fields,  Esq., — a  powerfully  life-like  portrait.  A 
portrait  of  Shakspeare  and  a  mask  of  Garrick  (taken  from 
the  mask  in  the  possession  of  the  Garrick  Club  of  London) 
occupy  the  right  hand  of  the  fireplace,  and  between  them, 


HIS  "DEN."  59 

wreathed  with  ivy,  is  hung  an  immense  wooden  spoon, 
trophy  of  college  days.  A  big  brass  Norwegian  kettle  on 
a  tripod  of  antique  form  stands  near,  and  by  its  side  next 
the  wall  is  a  long-cased  clock.  A  sideboard,  black  with  age 
and -highly  carved,  is  filled  with  spoils  of  European  travel. 
Three  or  four  other  carved  Norwegian  cabinets  and  chests 
stand  in  the  room.  A  bronze  cast  of  Napoleon's  face  after 
death,  statuettes  of  Henry  Clay  and  Daniel  Webster,  and 
many  other  small  works  of  art  occupy  the  shelf  of  the 
bookcase,  which  runs  breast-high  around  the  apartment. 
On  the  red-papered  walls  are  large  groups  of  palm  leaves 
and  brass  sconces;  in  the  corners  are  shields  of  family 
arms.  The  door  is  mounted  with  massive  brass  hinges 
and  locks.  Louis  Quatorze  high-backed  and  stamped 
leather-covered  chairs  stand  around  the  room,  which  is 
carpeted  with  rugs  and  skins  of  different  animals.  Upon 
the  writing-table  stands  a  small  but  spirited  bronze  of 
William  Pitt,  taken  from  the  statue  erected  in  Hanover 
Square,  London,  and  by  its  side  lie  a  miniature  edition  of 
Shakspeare  and  a  Bible.  The  last  opens  more  readily 
than  anywhere  else  to  the  Old  Testament  prophets,  whose 
lofty  imagery  and  burning  sentences  against  national  crimes 
formed  his  favorite  reading.  The  library  itself,  for  a  young 
man's,  is  large  and  well  selected,  showing  a  manly  taste. 
The  books  are  chiefly  historical  and  political.  There  are 
the  standard  works  on  Greek,  Koman,  Italian,  French, 
English,  and  American  history,  the  speeches  of  English 
statesmen  and  orators,  various  editions  of  Shakspeare,  a 
good  though  small  selection  of  Latin  and  Greek  classics, 
the  English  poets,  some  of  the  French  essayists,  and  some 
works  on  government,  political  economy,  and  industrial 
and  social  questions,  together  with  his  law  library.'  In  his 
last  years  his  reading  tended  to  a  solid  kind,  and  if  he 


(JO  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

could  not  say  precisely  in  the  words  of  Frederick  W. 
Robertson,  "  I  read  hard  or  not  at  all,  never  skimming, 
never  turning  aside  to  many  inviting  books;  and  Plato, 
Aristotle,  Butler,  Thucydides,  Jonathan  Edwards,  have 
passed  like  the  iron  atoms  of  the  blood  into  my  mental 
constitution,"  yet  he  could  speak  of  his  real  working  years 
in  much  the  same  way.  We  do  not  claim  for  Mr.  Brown 
that  he  was  a  "  terrible  worker"  during  all  his  intellectual 
life,  but  he  was  growing  ever  more  and  more  severe  in 
his  tasks,  jealous  of  his  time,  careful  in  the  selection  of 
his  studies,  self-denying  and  self-disciplining  in  his  reading. 
He  fed  his  mind  upon  substantial  food,  and  perhaps  he 
felt  the  necessity  of  making  up  deficiencies  that  would 
strengthen  and  consolidate  all,  and  would  make  a  firm 
foundation  on  which  to  build  a  statesmanlike  superstruc 
ture.  He  was  beginning  to  learn  the  lesson 

"Of  labor,  that  in  lasting  fruit  outgrows 
Far  noisier  schemes,  accomplish'd  in  repose, 
Too  great  for  haste,  too  high  for  rivalry."  * 

The  question  might  be  asked,  How  can  a  lawyer  become 
a  statesman  ?  In  Germany  this  is  answered  by  the  estab 
lishment  of  schools  specially  devoted  to  the  sciences  of 
government,  of  State-law,  but  in  our  own  land  a  young  man 
is  compelled  to  make  his  way  alone  to  something  broader 
in  political  knowledge  and  life.  By  the  prompting  of  his 
own  genius,  if  at  all,  he  is  led  to  study  the  science  of  gov 
ernment,  the  government  of  towns  and  cities,  and  the  prac 
tical  working  of  these.  He  is  led  to  study  commerce  in 
its  multiform  relations ;  manufactures  and  the  various  in 
dustries  and  arts  that  have  a  bearing  upon  the  welfare  of 

*  Matthew  Arnold. 


THE   CENTENNIAL   EPOCH.  Q\ 

the  people;  political  economy  and  financial  questions  in 
their  practical  as  well  as  theoretical  aspects;  history,  an 
cient  and  modern ;  religious  systems  and  their  influence 
upon  popular  character, — in  fine,  everything  that  has  a 
direct  relation  to  national  interest.  In  this  way,  by  inde 
pendent  effort,  and  by  study  directed  to  a  high  aim,  he  may 
expand  himself  from  the  professional  type  of  man — the 
lawyer  who  is  a  man  of  precedents,  and  whose  aims  are 
personal — into  the  comprehensiveness  of  the  public  man 
and  statesman.  In  fact,  no  book  or  school  can  teach  this. 
Genius  for  such  studies,  original  observation,  and  a  tireless 
energy  that  leaves  nothing  unknown,  nothing  unexplained, 
— the  energy  of  Charles  Sumner,  or  of  greater  men,  like 
Bismarck  and  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  last  of  whom  educated 
himself  into  a  statesman  from  being  a  very  narrowly-trained 
lawyer, — these  are  the  pursuits  and  qualifications  which,  in 
the  place  of  a  more  systematic  European  cultivation  in  states 
manship,  go  to  educate  the  man  who  is  to  make  laws  and 
guide  the  State.  Into  this  field  of  self-training  for  some 
thing  larger  and  broader  Mr.  Brown  was  continually  press 
ing  with  an  intense  earnestness, — but  these  matters  and  ques 
tions  we  must  defer  to  a  somewhat  later  period  of  his  life. 

The  Centennial  epoch  had  commenced.  Philadelphia, 
as  being  the  central  point  of  the  proposed  national  com 
memoration,  was  in  the  beginning  of  its  excitement  and 
stirring  preparation.  All  Pennsylvania  was  to  be  aroused 
to  share  in  this  patriotic  feeling  and  in  the  work  of  procur 
ing  funds  for  this  colossal  enterprise.  Popular  orators 
were  sent  out  to  all  the  chief  country  towns.  It  was  a  time 
of  flux  de  bouche,  but  of  all  who  spoke,  none,  we  are  of 
the  opinion,  had  a  truer  idea  of  the  importance  of  the 
opportunity  to  promote  pure  patriotic  sentiments  than 


(J2  MEMOIR   OF  HEKRY  ARM1TT  BROWN. 

Henry  Armitt  Brown,  as  certainly  no  one  more  distin 
guished  himself  as  a  speaker  than  he  during  this  fervid 
epoch.  Speech  was  to  be  the  Teucrian  bow  with  which 
he  defended  the  ships  of  his  country's  hopes  arid  treasures 
from  irreverent  hands.  He  made  one  of  his  first  addresses 
September  18, 1873,  at  the  large  town  of  Reading,  Pennsyl 
vania.  It  was  an  immense  citizens'  meeting  to  which  over 
two  hundred  vice-presidents  were  chosen.  The  Philadelphia 
Press  said  of  it :  "  At  the  Grand  Opera  House,  H.  Armitt 
Brown,  of  Philadelphia,  delivered  one  of  the  best  addresses 
on  the  Centennial  enterprise  heard  this  year." 

The  succeeding  week  he  spoke  to  a  great  gathering  of  the 
people  at  Bethlehem,  Pennsylvania,  in  the  Moravian  Day 
School  Hall.  He  commenced  his  speech  in  these  words : 

"  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  it  is  my  privilege  to  visit  Bethlehem, 
and  if  I  were  here  for  any  other  object  than  that  which  has  brought 
us  together  to-night,  it  might  seem  to  me  necessary  to  introduce  iny- 
self  to  you  with  some  words  of  apology  or  excuse.  But  when,  as  a 
Pennsylvanian,  I  come  before  Pennsylvanians ;  when,  as  an  Ameri 
can,  I  am  speaking  to  Americans,  endeavoring  as  far  as  in  me  lies 
to  arouse  my  countrymen  to  the  discharge  of  a  great  patriotic  duty, 
I  feel  that  apology  is  unnecessary  ;  I  forget  for  the  moment  that  I  am 
a  stranger ;  I  seem  to  be  at  home  looking  into  the  faces  of  friends." 

During  the  months  of  October  and  November,  1873, 
Mr.  Brown  delivered  at  various  towns  in  Pennsylvania  and 
Ohio  an  oration  entitled  "  The  Centennial,  the  Story  of  an 
Hundred  Years."  This  address  seemed  to  strike  audiences 
differently.  In  one  place  it  was  pronounced  tedious,  and  it 
was  said  of  the  speaker  that  while  "  his  manner  of  delivery 
is  attractive,  his  diction  clear  and  faultless,  and  his  whole 
appearance  that  of  a  true  orator,  yet  he  failed  to  compre 
hend  his  subject,  and  spoke  more  of  the  Centennial  to  be 
than  of  the  Centennial  that  had  been."  In  another  place 


THE  STORT  OF  AN  HUNDRED    YEARS.  Q$ 

the  prophetic  feature  in  the  speech  was  considered  the  most 
attractive  one.  The  special  character  of  this  address  may 
be  gathered  from  a  brief  notice  in  an  Ohio  paper :  "The 
speaker  on  the  '  Story  of  an  Hundred  Years'  dwelt  particu 
larly  upon  the  past  of  our  country's  history,  contrasting 
the  beginning  of  this  century  with  the  ending ;  comparing 
our  present  standing  as  a  nation,  our  wealth,  prosperity, 
strength,  and  greatness  as  a  people,  with  the  weakness, 
poverty,  and  insignificance  in  the  eyes  of  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  of  the  United  States  in  1776.  For  Mr.  Brown,  like 
all  good  Americans,  counts  the  ending  of  the  century  not 
with  an  18  and  two  unmeaning  ciphers,  but  with  the  magic 
figures  76,  and  we  believe  inspired  every  hearer  with  a 
desire  to  live  and  see  the  true  centennial  of  this  govern 
ment,  and  witness  the  consummation  so  long  foreshadowed 
by  the  preparations  of  President  and  people  for  the  grand 
ceremonial  at  Philadelphia  in  that  year.*  He  had  a  worthy 
subject  and  fully  did  it  justice.  His  manner  is  pleasing, 
his  voice  thrilling  and  in  the  heroic  parts  moves  every 
heart ;  while,  whether  he  be  interested  or  not,  he  impresses 
all  with  the  conviction  that  he  is,  and  that  every  word  is 
the  inspiration  of  the  moment.  No  monotonous  repetition 
of  an  '  oft-repeated  story'  is  suggested  either  by  word  or 
manner.  His  enemy,  had  he  listened,  would  have  been  stung 
with  envy,  while  his  friend  would  have  been  made  glad." 

It  is  with  oratory  as  with  music,  sometimes  it  raises 
and  sometimes  depresses  our  hearts.  If  men  tell  us  what 
we  are  ready  to  receive  they  are  eloquent.  "Nothing," 
says  a  French  author,  "  is  so  uncertain  as  eloquence." 

New  England  was  catching  the  Centennial  enthusiasm. 
*  This  was  written  in  1873. 


64  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

There  was  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  throwing 
overboard  of  the  tea  in  Boston  harbor  to  be  celebrated  on 
December  16,  1873.  To  this  "Boston  tea-party/'  given 
by  the  Boston  ladies, — some  of  them  lineal  descendants  of 
the  "  Mohawks'1  who  did  the  deed, — Philadelphia  was  in 
vited  to  send  guests,  and  one  of  the  two  whom  she  chose 
was  Mr.  Brown.  The  celebration  was  held  in  Faneuil 
Hall,  or,  as  Daniel  Webster  and  the  old-fashioned  people 
used  to  call  it, — and  it  would  have  been  peculiarly  appro 
priate  for  this  occasion, — "  Funnel  Hall."  The  crowded 
assembly  was  addressed  by  Hon.  Josiah  Quincy,  Hon. 
Robert  C.  Winthrop,  Henry  A.  Brown  and  Frederick 
Fraley,  of  Philadelphia,  Rev.  Edward  E.  Hale,  Hon. 
Thomas  Russell,  and  Samuel  M.  Quincy,  with  a  poem  by 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  Amid  these  veteran  speakers 
Mr.  Brown  seemed  slender  and  untried,  but  he  did  nobly. 
He  was  Greek  Glaucus  among  the  old  heavy-armed 
gladiators.  He  was  introduced  by  the  president,  Mr. 
Quincy,  in  these  words :  "  Boston  does  not  stand  alone  in 
the  controversy  which  the  Tea-party  aroused,  and  of  all 
places  most  immediately  connected  with  us  was  the  largest 
city  of  our  Union,  as  it  then  existed, — Philadelphia.  The 
moment  the  act  was  done  Boston  sent  Paul  Revere  to  tell 
that  the  tea  was  in  the  water.  We  sent  a  messenger  one 
hundred  years  ago;  and  though  the  Philadelphians  are 
slow  in  some  respects,  they  have  now  sent  their  representa 
tive  after  the  lapse  of  a  century." 
Mr.  Brown  spoke  as  follows : 

"  LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN,— A  few  days  ago  a  stranger  stood  in 
the  new  museum  in  the  State  House  at  Philadelphia.  Around  him 
were  the  relics  of  colonial  times  and  the  portraits  of  our  ancient 
kings,  from  Charles  II.  down  to  George  III.  Approaching  him,  a 
gentleman  said,  with  courteous  inquiry,  'You  are  a  foreigner,  sir?' 


THE  BOSTON  "TEA-PARTY"   SPEECH.  65 

'  Bless  you,'  was  the  reply,  *  I  am  no  foreigner  ;  I  am  an  English 
man.'  [Laughter.]  And  in  his  spirit  so  I  feel  to-night,  sir,  though  I 
stand  for  the  first  time  in  Faneuil  Hall.  I  see  about  me  no  familiar 
countenance ;  I  am  in  an  unaccustomed  place  ;  1  have  journeyed  far 
from  home;  and  yet  this  is  Boston,  and  this  Faneuil  Hall.  Here 
hang  the  likenesses  of  men  whose  portraits  since  my  childhood  I 
have  seen  in  Independence  Hall, — John  Hancock  and  John  Adams, 
Samuel  Adams  and  Elbridge  Gerry  (Robert  Treat  Paine  is  not  there 
yet,  though  the  place  is  waiting),  and  I  feel  that  here  at  least  I  am 
no  stranger.  [Applause.]  I  rise  in  this  presence  and  on  this  anni 
versary  to  speak  to  you  the  words  of  Philadelphia, — the  fraternal 
greetings  of  your  brethren  assembled  there.  Would  that  the  messen 
ger  were  more  worthy  ;  would  that  there  might  come  to  me  to-night  a 
voice  of  fire — an  inspiration  born  of  the  memories  of  this  place — that 
I  might  drink  in  the  spirit  of  this  anniversary,  and  tell  in  fitting 
words  the  message  which  I  bring  !  It  is  in  keeping  with  your  an 
cient  kindly  feeling  for  Philadelphians  that  you  ask  to  hear  from 
her  to-night.  Boston  has  heard  her  voice  before ;  not  only  in 
;  piping  times  of  peace,'  of  prosperity,  of  sunshine,  but  in  days  of 
doubt,  and  danger,  and  distress,  of  suffering,  of  trial,  and  of  want. 
In  season  and  out  of  season,  in  joy  and  sorrow,  in  peace  and  war, 
you  have  more  than  once  turned  to  her  for  sympathy,  and  you  have 
not  found  her  wanting.  When  your  fathers  asked  her  help  and 
counsel  in  the  dark  hours  that  preceded  the  great  struggle,  she 
sent  them  back  no  uncertain  action.  You  protested  against  the 
stamp  acts,  and  so  did  she  ;  you  destroyed  the  hateful  tea,  and  when 
the  news  reached  Philadelphia  her  inhabitants  assembled  to  applaud 
your  act,  and,  if  need  be,  to  follow  your  example.  The  sounds  from 
Lexington  roused  her  as  well  as  you,  and  the  story  of  your  trium 
phant  defeat  on  yonder  heights  awoke  in  Philadelphia  an  echo  that 
shook  her  iron  hills.  She  opened  wide  her  arms  to  greet  the  great 
men  whom  you  sent  to  her  first  Congress ;  and,  when  the  British 
held  Boston  in  their  grasp,  she  heard  the  clanking  of  your  chains, 
and  that  Congress,  assembled  in  her  State  House,  sent  you  Wash 
ington.  [Applause.]  As  she  was  then  she  is  to-day.  Still,  on  her 
busiest  street,  stands  the  old  State  House,— preserved  with  pious 
care, — holding  up,  as  this  thrice-sacred  building  does,  the  old  time 
and  the  new  time  face  to  face  ;  and  from  its  walls  your  great  men, 
as  well  as  hers,  look  down  upon  another  spot  made  holy  by  their 


66  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

patriotism  and  virtue.  There,  in  the  centre  of  her  busy  life,  lies 
Independence  Square,  its  corners  resting  on  her  crowded  highways, 
'a  sacred  island  in  a  tumultuous  main  ;'  close  by  she  guards  the 
relics  of  the  dead — your  own  as  well  as  hers — whom  fate  confided  to 
the  keeping  of  the  land  for  which  they  died ;  and  in  her  bosom 
there,  to-day,  she  bears  the  dust  of  Franklin.  All  around  her  are 
reminders  of  the  time  when  Philadelphia  and  Boston  stood  in  the 
very  front;  when  Pennsylvania  and  Massachusetts  held  up  the 
hands  of  Washington.  Before  her  roll  the  waters  that  wash  the 
feet  of  Trenton  and  Red  Bank ;  beside  her  lies  the  smiling  valley  of 
Whitemarsh ;  still,  in  her  suburbs,  stands  the  old  stone  house  round 
which  the  battle  raged  at  Germantown.  She  sees  the  sun  set  behind 
those  peaceful  hills — unconscious  of  their  fame — between  which 
slumbers  Valley  Forge,  and  by  her  southern  borders  flows  a  placid 
stream  that  bears  the  immortal  name  of  Brandywine !  Here  stood 
the  sons  of  Boston  and  her  children  side  by  side.  There  your  blood 
and  hers  commingled  stained  the  cruel  snow ;  together  you  shared 
the  sufferings  and  the  sorrows  ;  together  the  danger  and  the  toil : 
and  the  victory,  with  its  blessings,  was  for  both  !  Her  tongue  may 
cleave  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth  and  her  right  hand  forget  its  cun 
ning,  but  she  will  remember  this !  And  it  is  peculiarly  appropriate 
that  she  should  speak  to  you  to-night.  When  the  news  reached 
Philadelphia  that  year — 1773 — that  the  tea-ships  were  on  their  way, 
her  citizens  met  in  the  State  House  on  the  17th  day  of  October,  and 
unanimously  resolved  '  that  the  attempt  to  levy  taxes  without  the 
assent  of  the  people  was  an  infringement  of  the  inherent  right  of 
freemen,  and  an  attack  upon  the  liberties  of  America'  ;  '  that  resist 
ance  was  the  duty  of  every  true  American' ;  '  that  whoever  should 
directly  or  indirectly  aid  or  abet  in  landing,  receiving,  or  selling 
the  tea  was  an  enemy  of  his  country,'  and  'that  the  consignees 
should  be  forced  to  resign.'  On  the  2d  of  November  following  the 
Bostonians  met  here  and  adjourned  to  the  5th,  when,  having  ap 
pointed  John  Hancock  moderator,  they  unanimously  adopted  as 
their  own  '  the  resolutions  of  our  brethren  of  Philadelphia.'  Six 
weeks  later  they  met  again.  The  fate  of  their  country  hung  upon 
their  acts.  The  excitement  reached  Philadelphia.  Her  tea-ships 
had  not  yet  arrived,  and  she  awaited,  breathlessly,  the  news  from 
Boston.  The  days  came  and  went ;  a  week  glided  by  and  still  there 
were  no  tidings ;  when  suddenly,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of 


THE  BOSTON  "TEA-PARTY"   SPEECH.  67 

December  24,  a  courier  came  riding  in,  post  haste,  bringing  great 
news.  By  five  o'clock  that  day  the  town  was  all  alive.  Men  gath 
ered  in  the  streets  to  tell,  with  glowing  cheeks,  how  their  brethren 
of  Boston,  coming  in  from  twenty  miles  around,  had  packed  old 
Faneuil  Hall  as  it  was  never  filled  before,  until  it  became  necessary, 
owing  to  the  crowd,  to  adjourn  to  the  old  South  Church, — to  that 
building  which,  but  the  other  day,  saved  from  destruction  as  if  by 
miracle,  has  earned  another  title  to  your  gratitude  and  veneration, 
— and  there,  as  the  winter's  afternoon  wore  on,  counselled  together 
what  to  do:  until  at  last,  finding  no  other  course  left  open,  and 
roused  by  the  eloquence  of  their  leaders, — above  all,  sir,  by  the 
burning  words  of  him  whose  honored  name  you  bear, — they  poured 
into  the  streets,  and  through  the  early  dusk  to  Griffin's  wharf  to 
make  the  night  immortal !  Two  day's  after  Christmas  the  tea-ships 
anchored  near  Philadelphia.  At  an  hour's  notice  five  thousand  men 
gathered  in  town-meeting.  The  consignees  were  forced  to  resign, 
and  the  captains,  alarmed  at  the  steadfastness  of  the  people,  turned 
their  prows  seaward  and  sailed  away  forever.  Thus  did  Boston 
follow  the  example  of  Philadelphia,  and  again  Philadelphia  that  of 
Boston,  both  animated  by  a  noble  devotion  to  the  common  cause.  A 
century  has  passed  away,  and  I  confess.  Mr.  Chairman,  that  that 
seems  to  me  a  beautiful  sentiment,  and  one  which  savors  of  the 
spirit  of  that  olden  time,  which  has  led  the  Philadelphians  to  choose 
to  celebrate  this  night,  and  gather,  as  they  soon  will  do,  in  a  gigan 
tic  tea-party  in  memory  of  the  glorious  deed  of  Boston.  It  is  in  the 
power  of  Boston,  sir,  to  reciprocate  this  feeling  and  return  this  com 
pliment;  and  of  this — in  the  few  moments  which  remain  to  me — I 
wish  to  speak.  As  it  was  your  fortune  to  rock  the  cradle  of  liberty, 
it  was  Philadelphia's  to  guard  that  of  Independence.  Here,  in  your 
Faneuil  Hall,  the  corner-stone  was  laid ;  there,  in  her  State  House, 
the  edifice  was  crowned.  This  anniversary  belongs  to  you  ;  another 
anniversary  belongs  to  her.  And  now  that  we  are  face  to  face  with 
the  one  hundredth  birthday  of  the  nation,  Philadelphia  has  been 
chosen  as  the  spot  of  its  celebration.  She  is,  so  to  speak,  the  trustee 
for  the  whole  country,  and  the  guardian  there,  as  you  are  here,  of 
our  common  treasures.  The  President,  by  direction  of  Congress, 
has  named  the  time  and  place.  He  has  appointed  commissioners  for 
every  State  and  Territory  ;  he  has  authorized  them  to  raise  money 
for  the  purpose  of  holding  a  great  exhibition :  he  has  invited  all  the 


68  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

nations  of  the  earth.  In  Philadelphia,  on  the  4th  of  last  July,  in 
the  presence  of  the  chief  men  of  the  nation  and  of  many  States,  of 
representatives  from  every  corner  of  the  Union,  and  of  tens  of  thou 
sands  of  the  people,  were  solemnly  dedicated  to  the  Centennial  four 
hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  land.  There,  in  less  than  three  years, 
will  an  international  exhibition  rise,  more  remarkable  than  any 
which  the  world  has  seen.  Not  London  in  1851,  or  Paris  in  '67, 
when  the  doomed  empire  put  forth  its  might  to  show  to  the  world 
the  wealth  and  power  of  France,  nor  that  exhibition  which  has 
drawn  the  eyes  of  all  men  to  Vienna  during  the  present  year,  will 
compare  with  it.  They  represented  nothing  but  internal  progress; 
the  Centennial  will  commemorate  a  great  principle  and  an  era  hi  the 
social,  political,  and  moral  development  of  man  !  There  will  the  past 
and  present  meet  and  converse ;  there  will  be  spread  before  you  the 
products  of  agriculture  and  the  mine, — of  industry  and  skill, — the 
discoveries  of  science,  the  masterpieces  of  art,  the  riches  of  all 
nations,  the  treasures  of  the  earth  and  sea !  There  will  the  rice  and 
cotton  of  the  South,  the  grain  of  the  West,  Pennsylvania's  iron,  and 
the  manufactures  of  Massachusetts  be  displayed  before  the  world, 
where,  beneath  a  gigantic  roof  more  than  forty  acres  in  extent,  the 
men  of  every  race  and  clime  jostle  in  the  crowded  avenue  !  I  re 
member  that  Alciphron,  the  sophist,  declined  the  invitation  of  his 
friend  King  Ptolemy  to  make  his  home  in  Egypt  in  these  words  : 
;  For  where  in  Egypt  shall  I  behold  the  things  which  I  see  daily 
around  me  here  ?  Where  else  shall  I  behold  the  mysteries  of  our 
holy  religion,  the  straits  where  the  ever-memorable  battle  was 
fought  that  delivered  Greece, — the  neighboring  Salamis, — in  a  word, 
the  whole  of  Greece  concentrated  at  Athens?'  How  much  more  will 
the  American  of  1876,  standing  in  the  birthplace  of  the  nation,  and 
beholding  the  monuments  of  her  power  and  her  greatness,  seem  to 
see  the  whole  history  and  progress  of  his  country  concentrated  at 
Philadelphia!  But  besides  the  exhibition,  which  will  illustrate  the 
progress  of  the  century  and  be  but  temporary,  there  is  to  be  erected 
a  memorial  hall, — a  monument  of  the  first  centennial.  Beautiful 
in  design  and  of  enduring  materials,  it  will  stand  there  forever,  a 
national  museum,  the  pride  of  Americans,  the  wonder  of  strangers, 
the  admiration  of  posterity,  until,  perhaps,  at  a  second  centennial, 
its  beauties  will  pale  before  the  glories  of  that  distant  time.  But 
not  in  these  alone  will  the  American  centennial  be  complete.  There 


THE  BOSTON  "TEA-PARTY"   SPEECH.  (J9 

will  be  a  solemn  commemoration  of  the  great  anniversary.  Of  this 
I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  speak.  What  tongue  shall  tell  the  story 
of  that  day?  Who  shall  paint  the  picture  that  will  then  be  spread 
before  the  nations  ?  Thirteen  little  colonies  grown  to  thirty-seven 
sovereign  States, — a  weak  confederacy,  held  together  by  pressure 
from  without,  become  a  mighty  republic,  taming  the  new  world  in  a 
century !  Man's  capacity  for  self-government  no  longer  an  experi 
ment, — three  million  men  increased  to  nearly  forty  million,  gather 
ing  at  their  country's  birthplace  on  its  one- hundredth  anniversary  ! 
What  voice  shall  worthily  describe  the  scene  when  the  dawn  of  that 
day  shall  at  last  have  broken,  and  the  heavily-laden  hours  pass  on 
towards  high  noon,  and  the  American  people,  reunited,  return 
thanks  to  God  and  to  its  fathers?  Will  it  not  be  a  grander  consum 
mation  than  they  ever  dreamed  of  who  used  to  stand  here  where  I 
stand  to-night  and  teach  their  countrymen  the  path  that  led  to  it? 
Will  it  not  far  exceed  the  picture  which  their  fancy  painted  when 
they  sought  to  stir  the  hearts  around  them  with  visions  of  the  time 
to  come?  Will  it  not  seem  to  fulfil  the  prophecy  of  your  own  John 
Adams,  when,  on  the  evening  of  that  eventful  day,  while  his  great 
mind — as  Bancroft  says — '  heaved  like  the  ocean  after  a  storm,'  he 
sat  down  and  wrote  to  his  devoted  wife  :  '  This  will  be  the  most 
memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of  America, — to  be  celebrated  by  all 
succeeding  generations  as  the  great  anniversary  festival ;  commemo 
rated  as  the  day  of  deliverance  by  solemn  acts  of  devotion  to 
Almighty  God,  from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other,  from  this 
time  forward  for  evermore'  ?  Do  you  ask  me  what  results  we  may 
expect  from  this  ?  I  need  not  tell  you  of  the  advantage  that  will 
come  to  all  alike  ;  to  every  man  and  woman  and  child, — in  opening 
new  avenues  for  enterprise  and  industry  and  skill.  I  need  not 
speak  of  the  knowledge  we  shall  gain  when  we  shall  have  compared 
ourselves  with  each  other  and  with  other  nations,  nor  of  the  increased 
wealth  which  that  knowledge  shall  bring.  I  need  not  talk  of  the 
reputation  we  shall  achieve  when  the  world  shall  have  seen  us  as 
we  are,  nor  of  the  power  and  influence  that  will  flow  from  all  this. 
I  love  rather  at  a  time  like  this  to  speak  of  nobler  things.  I  look  to 
this  centennial  for  grand  results.  I  look  to  it  to  bind  up  the  days 
of  old  with  those  to  come,  and  teach  Americans  that,  henceforth  and 
forever,  they  are  not  only  a  nation  of  promise,  but  also  a  nation  of 
fulfilment,  not  only  a  people  of  the  future,  but  also  a  people  of  the 


70  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

past.  It  will  join  the  corners  of  the  land  in  friendship  ;  it  will  re 
unite  this  people  as  nothing  else  can,  and  blot  out  the  memory  of 
calamitous  times ;  it  will  arouse  us  from  the  apathy  which  weighs 
upon  us,  and  remind  us  that  we  owe  a  duty  to  our  country  as  well 
as  to  ourselves;  it  will  arm  us  against  the  temptations  that  are 
luring  us  to  destruction,  the  love  of  ease,  the  appetite  for  power,  the 
lust  for  gold;  it  will  awaken  in  us  a  truer  spirit,  and  purify  our 
pride ;  it  will  teach  us  how  much  that  is  good,  how  much  that  is 
grand  and  noble  other  nations  have  accomplished  for  humanity  ;  it 
will  make  us  a  better  people.  It  will  soften  the  national  heart ;  it 
will  broaden  the  national  view ;  it  will  deepen  the  national  thought ; 
it  will  strengthen  the  national  life  !  And  these  results  alone  will 
be  worth  all  the  labor  or  the  money  that  can  be  expended.  I 
could  name  as  many  more,  but  I  have  already  spoken  quite  too 
long,  and  I  must  close.  Such,  in  a  word,  my  countrymen,  is  the 
task  which  Philadelphia  has  undertaken.  She  has  begun  the  work, 
and  there  is  no  turning  back.  But  she  cannot  do  it  solitary  and 
alone.  It  is  the  duty  of  all  the  States  of  the  whole  country.  It  con 
cerns  them  all  alike.  It  is  a  great  national  undertaking.  Now,  at 
the  very  outset,  she  asks  your  sympathy  and  aid.  Of  all  her  sister 
cities,  she  turns  the  first  to  you.  You  can  help  the  Centennial  in  a 
thousand  ways, — in  your  families,  among  your  friends,  and  in  the 
communities  in  which  you  live,  as  a  people,  as  a  city,  as  a  State. 
You  can  talk  of  it,  give  to  it,  work  for  it,  pray  for  it.  Philadelphia 
asks  it  not  for  her  sake,  but  for  your  own  and  for  our  country's. 
She  asks  it  in  the  name  of  all  that  you  have  endured  together  in  the 
days  gone  by,  in  the  name  of  that  progress  which  the  Centennial 
will  illustrate,  of  those  labors  which  it  will  complete,  of  those  virtues 
which  it  will  commemorate,  of  those  sacrifices  which  it  will  sanctify ; 
in  the  name  of  that  freedom  whose  anniversary  it  will  consecrate, — 
which  came  to  us  from  God. 

"  I  know,  my  countrymen,  that  she  does  not  appeal  to  you  in 
vain.  I  might  doubt  in  other  places,  but  not  here.  I  do  not  forget 
to  whom,  nor  where  I  speak.  I  look  into  the  eyes  of  men  who  have 
the  blood  of  the  leaders  of  our  early  times,  and  the  spot  on  which  I 
stand  is  holy  ground.  I  have  an  abiding  faith  in  this  people  and  in 
this  place.  The  air  is  full  of  waking  memories.  Whatever  in  this 
dying  century  there  has  been  of  good,  of  noble  endeavor,  of  self- 
'sacrifice,  of  honor,  of  truth ;  whatever,  in  a  word,  has  contributed 


THE  "MERCHANTS'   FUND1'  SPEECH.  71 

to  the  greatness  and  happiness  of  man  seems,  at  this  moment,  to  rise 
up  out  of  its  grave  instinct  with  life.  In  the  august  presence  of  this 
anniversary  the  spell  that  holds  them  dumb  is  broken,  and,  from 
each  crevice  in  this  ancient  hall,  come  forth  ten  thousand  tongues 
to  plead  with  mine  I  They  speak  to  you,  to  whom  it  has  been 
given  to  share  the  blessings  of  the  century  that  is  about  to  close. 
They  speak  to  you,  to  whom  it  may  be  vouchsafed  to  see  the  glories 
of  the  century  that  is  about  to  open.  They  tell  us  of  a  past,  honor 
able,  sanctified,  complete  ;  and  on  this  threshold  of  the  future  they 
teach  us,  with  the  voice  of  inspiration,  that  He  whom  our  fathers 
worshipped  will  hear  the  supplications  of  their  children,  and — truer 
than  the  imagined  gods  of  pagan  story — maintain,  through  all  the 
generations  yet  to  come,  the  virtue,  happiness,  and  power  of  the 
republic."  [Applause.] 

This  speech,  even  among  addresses  of  more  distinguished 
men,  was  characterized  as  "  brilliant."  In  the  language  of 
a  correspondent  who  had  good  opportunity  to  study  the 
audience,  "  it  made  a  delightful  impression." 

We  must  how  turn  aside  for  a  while  from  the  current  of 
the  great  Centennial  to  notice  some  other  events  and  ora 
torical  labors.  The  first  of  these,  occurring  at  the  beginning 
of  the  year  1874,  is  of  a  very  pleasing  character.  Having 
made  the  discovery  of  Mr.  Brown's  gifts,  his  fellow-citizens 
seemed  determined  to  call  them  into  constant  requisition ; 
and  his  next  service  was  in  behalf  of  The  Merchants'  Fund 
of  Philadelphia,  an  association  incorporated  in  1854,  whose 
purpose,  as  defined  in  the  second  article  of  its  charter,  is 
"To  furnish  relief  to  indigent  merchants  of  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  especially  such  as  are  aged  and  infirm."  The 
twentieth  annual  meeting  of  this  society  was  held  on  the 
evening  of  January  27,  1874,  before  a  large  assemblage  at 
the  Academy  of  Music.  Mr.  Brown  was  the  third  regular 
speaker  on  the  occasion,  and  was  thus  introduced  by  Mr. 
Frederick  Fraley,  the  chairman  of  the  meeting : 


72  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"  We  have  heard  the  Church  speak  for  our  charity,  we 
have  heard  the  Merchant  speak  for  our  charity,  and  now 
we  are  to  hear  the  Law  speak  for  our  charity.  I  know  that 
merchants  depend  often  upon  the  lawyers  for  good  counsel 
and  good  guidance  through  their  troubles,  and  I  know  that 
the  eloquent  gentleman  whom  I  am  about  to  introduce  to 
you  can  represent  properly  the  much-abused  profession  of 
the  law.  I  have  the  honor  of  introducing  my  friend,  Mr. 
Henry  Armitt  Brown."  His  address  was  a  thoughtful  and 
elaborately  prepared  production.  Among  friendly  notices 
was  the  following  from  the  Philadelphia  Press:  "Our 
young  orator  talked  like  an  old  statesman.  He  applies 
what  he  draws  from  the  past  to  the  necessities  of  the  present. 
He  has  an  axiomatic  style.  Few  men  of  his  age  have  gone 
back  to  borrow  from  the  old  examples,  and  forward  to  wel 
come  the  new  inspirations,  with  a  happier  faculty.  There 
is  in  the  address  a  model  for  the  young  men  of  our  day, 
and  the  merchants  for  whom  he  spoke  could  have  had  no 
better  interpreter  of  their  splendid  benevolence." 

But  more  stirring  times  in  politics  were  at  hand.  Reeling 
blows  were  to  be  given  and  received.  The  Municipal  Re 
form  question  once  again  rose  to  prominence  and  agitated 
the  whole  community.  The  efforts  of  the  party  of  reform, 
who  were  ever  steadily  at  work,  had  already  brought  about 
positive  results.  The  contest  in  Pennsylvania  over  the  new 
constitution  had  been  fought  and  won  by  the  friends  of  reform 
by  a  majority  of  over  one  hundred  and  forty-five  thousand. 
The  introduction  of  needed  changes  by  the  new  State  consti 
tution  had,  as  was  supposed,  made  the  municipalities  com 
paratively  independent;  had  destroyed  the  capacities  for  evil 
of  the  Legislature;  had  rendered  fraud  more  difficult  to  per 
petrate;  had  insured  fairer  elections;  had  lessened  the  oppor 
tunities  for  plunder.  Their  success,  however,  injured  them. 


MUNICIPAL  REFORM.  73 

The  Reform  party,  "  unused  to  being  on  the  winning  side," 
had  grown  lax.  The  party  in  power  thereupon  had  redoubled 
their  efforts,  and  had  renominated  the  whole  ticket  of  those 
who  were  then  incumbents.  The  boldness  of  this  move 
ment,  in  the  face  of  all  that  had  been  established  by 
reform,  together  with  the  detecting  of  actual  frauds  in  the 
recent  election,  reawakened  the  energies  of  the  independent 
party,  and,  after  much  discussion,  they  nominated  Alexander 
K.  McClure  for  the  mayoralty  of  Philadelphia.  This  nomi 
nation  aroused  enthusiasm  and  opposition.  Mr.  McClure 
was  well  known  to  be  a  man  of  great  force  and  of  unusual 
power  of  attack.  He  was  distasteful  to  some  of  the  leaders 
of  the  independent  movement  itself,  but  he  was  supported 
heartily  by  the  great  majority  of  the  Reform  party,  composed 
of  Republicans  and  Democrats,  Avho  were  determined  to 
break  the  "  ring"  by  using  a  powerful  instrument.  Enor 
mous  mass-meetings  were  organized,  which  were  character 
ized  by  unexampled  enthusiasm.  At  these  meetings,  and 
especially  at  the  great  ratification  meeting  held  at  Horti 
cultural  Hall  on  the  evening  of  March  31,  1874,  McClure 
was  the  principal  speaker;  and  his  speeches  were  really 
wonderful  specimens  of  boldness,  originality,  sarcasm,  and 
a  kind  of  resistless  Dantonesque  eloquence.  No  less  weighty, 
though  calmer  in  tone,  were  the  speeches  of  Mr.  Brown, 
who  threw  himself  into  this  election  contest  with  all  his 
strength.  If  the  best  men  of  the  Republican  party  held 
back  and  demurred  at  coming  up  to  the  mark  as  candidates, 
he  did  not  wait  for  them  nor  spend  time  "  in  searching  for 
angels,"  but,  taking  whom  he  believed  to  be  the  most  avail 
able  man  for  aggressive  reform  purposes,  he  fought  for  him 
with  all  his  might.  Thus  on  the  evening  of  February  4, 
he  made  a  rough-and-ready  speech  for  reform  at  Oxford 
Hall,  in  the  Twenty-ninth  Ward,  in  which  he  declared  that 

6 


74  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

the  world-wide  reputation  of  Philadelphia  for  being  a  clean 
city,  "so  clean  that  you  could  eat  your  dinner  in  the  streets," 
was  a  bygone  tradition,  and  the  only  ones  who  could  eat 
their  dinners  in  the  streets  now  were  the  hogs.  These  were 
the  city  scavengers.  He  showed  the  gradual  multiplication 
of  abuses,  the  steady  increase  of  municipal  indebtedness, 
and  the  peculiar  method  of  taxation  to  secure  the  largest 
revenue  from  the  taxpayers.  He  set  forth  the  excessive 
valuations  upon  property,  the  steady  growth  of  the  tax-rate, 
the  undue  increase  of  taxation  as  onerous,  both  upon  the 
rich  property-holder  and  the  poor  tenant,  because  the  latter 
was  obliged  to  pay  the  tax  in  rent,  and  the  fact  that  there 
was  no  due  return  for  this  increased  taxation,  the  city  being 
more  badly  kept,  the  water  facilities  being  poorer,  and  the 
lighting  more  defective,  and  that  while  each  citizen  was  en 
titled  to  the  seven  hundred  and  fiftieth  part  of  a  policeman, 
yet  not  more  than  the  one-fiftieth  part  of  that  fraction 
was  allowed  him.  But  the  two  principal  speeches  that  he 
made  during  this  short  and  sharp  campaign  for  Centennial 
mayor  deserve  to  be  more  fully  recorded :  the  first,  at  Ger- 
mantown,  Pennsylvania,  February  7,  from  its  boldness, 
pungency,  and  wit ;  and  the  second,  at  Horticultural  Hall, 
in  Philadelphia,  a  week  afterwards,  a  briefer  speech,  from 
its  incidental  exhibition  of  character.  We  have  only  space 
for  the  second  shorter  speech : 

"FELLOW-CITIZENS, — I  shall  not  speak  to  you  at  length  to-night,  for 
I  am  not  well,  and  there  are  many  other  speakers  on  this  platform. 
It  seems  to  me  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  this  contest. 
It  is  all  very  well  for  our  opponents  to  tell  us  that  there  is  nothing 
to  be  decided  on  Tuesday  next  but  whether  Mr.  Stokley  or  Mr. 
McClure  shall  be  mayor  of  Philadelphia.  It  is  to  their  interest  to 
tell  us  so,  and  try  to  make  the  people  believe  it,  but  it  is  all  a  great 
mistake.  [Applause.]  The  men  who  tell  you  that  don't  think  so 
themselves;  they  don't  understand  the  people  of  this  city,  and  have 


SPEECH  AT  HORTICULTURAL  HALL.  75 

not  understood  them  for  a  long  time  past.  They  have  taken  mildness 
for  cowardice,  patience  for  fear,  forbearance  for  stupidity.  They 
have  underrated  you  and  overrated  themselves,  and  the  time  for  be 
lieving  them  has  long  passed  away.  [Here  a  disturbance  broke  out 
in  the  gallery.  One  of  Mayor  Stokley's  policemen  having  expressed 
his  disapproval  of  the  speaker's  sentiments,  there  were  loud  cries  of 
"  Put  him  out !"  Mr.  B.  called  out,  "  Let  him  alone  ;  he'll  vote  all 
right  on  Tuesday."  The  audience  laughed  and  the  speaker  pro 
ceeded.]  That  wonderful  meeting  of  the  31st  of  January  was  some 
thing  more  than  a  political  demonstration.  It  was  the  outgrowth  of 
the  times.  It  was  the  natural  result  of  years  of  misgovernment ;  it 
was  the  protest  against  a  corrupt  tyranny  of  an  abused  and  plun 
dered  people  !  It  was  the  uprising  of  honest  men  against  a  system 
which  had  fastened  itself  upon  them  until  it  seemed  as  if  there  was 
no  shaking  it  off;  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  in  Philadelphia. 
[Cheers.]  And  so  I  repeat,  as  I  look  this  vast  audience  in  the  face, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  this  contest. 
There  is  not  a  man  within  sound  of  my  voice  who  doesn't  know  in 
his  heart  how  important  a  day  to  him,  and  all  of  us,  the  17th  of  Feb 
ruary  will  be.  It  is  not  a  question  simply  of  the  mayoralty,  of  the 
success  of  this  man  or  the  other ;  it  is  a  question  whether  the  people 
shall  have  its  own  again,  or  whether  this  great  city  shall  forever 
hereafter  be  absolutely  governed  by  a  few  bad  men.  [Applause.] 
This  is  the  question  for  you  to  decide.  You  cannot  escape  it ;  it  is  a 
responsibility  you  cannot  shirk.  You  must  perpetuate  the  present 
state  of  things  or  destroy  it  now  forever.  [Applause.]  And  while 
the  contest  seems  to  me  to  be  the  most  important  in  the  history  of 
Philadelphia,  there  never  was  a  greater  contrast  between  two  parties. 
It  is  a  battle  between  regulars  and  militia;  but  the  regulars  are  de 
moralized  and  disheartened,  and  the  militia  have  enthusiasm  and 
overwhelming  numbers.  [Cheers.]  It  is  a  struggle  between  the 
politicians  and  the  people,  but  Right  and  Virtue  are  on  the  people's 
side.  [Applause.]  You  have,  in  the  first  place,  on  the  one  hand,  a 
non-partisan  nomination.  [Cheering.]  The  event  of  thirteen  days 
ago,  which  made  this  place  historic,  was  *the  spontaneous  outburst 
of  a  general  sentiment  in  this  community.  The  people,  outraged 
and  betrayed,  found  here  at  last  a  leader  [applause],  and  the  great 
effort  to  lift  the  affairs  of  Philadelphia  out  of  the  field  of  national 
politics  took  then  a  form.  You  have,  I  say,  in  Colonel  McClure's 


76  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

nomination  an  attempt  to  break  up  partisan  control  and  rally  the 
honest  men  of  all  parties  on  the  side  of  good  government.  And  how 
has  this  canvass  been  conducted?  Night  after  night  he  goes  about 
from  hall  to  hall  in  every  part  of  this  great  city  to  talk  to  the  mul 
titudes  who  cram  them,  even  on  such  rainy  winter  nights  as  this, — to 
talk  fairly  and  frankly, — to  tell  them  why  they  need  reform  (if  any 
men  can  be  found  in  this  city  to  believe  that  we  do  not  need  it),  and 
to  point  them  to  a  safe  deliverance.  [Cheers.]  He  is  supported  in 
this  by  men  of  both  parties.  At  every  meeting  at  which  I  have  had 
the  good  fortune  to  be  present  I  have  heard  Democrats  and  Kepub- 
licans  talking  to  the  people,  side  by  side  and  shoulder  to  shoulder  in 
the  common  cause.  He  is  supported  by  a  newspaper  which  has  not 
yet  contained  a  falsehood  or  an  unfair  argument,  or  an  ungenerous 
personal  attack.  Day  after  day  in  every  part  of  it  you  see  the  same 
thing ;  in  its  editorials,  in  the  speeches  which  it  contains,  and  which 
I  believe  the  people  read  [applause],  unanswerable  arguments  in 
favor  of  reform.  It  is  frank,  it  is  honest,  it  speaks  the  simple  truth, 
and  if  there  should  be  no  other  result  in  the  contest  Philadelphians 
should  thank  The  Press  for  showing  them  the  rare  example  of  an 
honest,  independent  newspaper.  [Great  applause.]  Money  we  have 
little,  barely  enough  to  pay  from  day  to  day  the  expenses  of  our 
meetings  and  the  advertising  bills  of  hostile  newspapers :  but  the 
money  that  comes  hourly  in  small  sums  from  the  people  proves  that 
there  still  lingers  in  this  community  a  love  of  courage  and  inde 
pendence,  and  that  the  people  of  Philadelphia  know  well  enough  in 
whose  victory  their  safety  lies.  [Applause.]  Thus,  day  by  day, 
night  after  night,  the  fight  goes  on  ;  the  people  read,  and  listen,  and 
reflect,  and  the  cause  of  their  enemies  grows  steadily  more  desper 
ate.  [Applause.]  The  nomination  of  Mr.  Stokley  is  a  partisan 
nomination  forced  on  the  party  by  a  few  of  its  managers.  And  how 
do  they  conduct  their  part  of  this  campaign?  They  have  control  of 
every  office  and  all  the  patronage  of  power.  They  command  a  small 
army  of  office-holders,  and  boast  that  they  own  a  large  contingent 
force  of  colored  voters.  They  draw  immense  sums  of  money  for  all 
imaginable  expenses  from*  innumerable  sources.  By  a  skilful  use 
of  every  means  they  scatter  broadcast  partisan  newspapers  and  false 
tax  receipts  [applause],  and,  as  I  see  to-night,  beautiful  engravings, 
accompanied  by  biographies.  [Laughter.]  The  carefully  prepared 
accounts  of  their  meetings,  with  immense  lists  of  vice-presidents, 


SPEECH  AT  HORTICULTURAL  HALL.  77 

many  of  whom  are  openly  supporting  Colonel  McClure,  are  dis 
tributed  by  the  policemen  in  every  portion  of  the  city.  They  rake 
up  stale  slanders,  dead  and  buried  fifteen  years  ago,  and  parade 
their  mouldering  relics  in  the  charnel-house  of  a  Sunday  newspaper, 
and,  notwithstanding  that  the  refutation  comes  at  once  from  the 
author  of  the  slanderous  article  himself,  they  continue  to  slip  the 
paper,  marked  with  colored  pencils,  under  honest  men's  doors  while 
they  are  asleep.  In  place  of  arguments  they  give  you  slanders ; 
they  answer  reason  with  abuse,  the  protest  of  the  people  with  a  party- 
cry  [applause],  and  not  content  with  announcing  themselves  at  every 
meeting  as  the  exclusive  possessors  of  every  virtue,  each  one  cling 
ing  desperately  to  the  much-abused  prefix  of  'the  Honorable,'  they 
unite  in  calling  the  independent  movement  of  the  people  of  this 
great  city  to  destroy  the  power  which  has  made  their  city  govern 
ment  a  disgrace  among  their  countrymen  and  choose  a  ruler  for 
themselves — the  audacious  attempt  to  seize  power  of  '  the  criminal 
classes.'  [Cheers.]  They  harp  forever  on  a  single  string ;  and,  as 
many  a  fellow  in  a  scrape  has  done  before,  they  think  to  divert 
attention  from  themselves  by  calling  out  '  Police !'  [Laughter.] 
It  is  not  surprising,  my  friends,  that  they  should  take  this  course. 
The  men  who  have  governed  Philadelphia  for  the  past  few  years  are 
capable  of  anything  but  good.  [Cheers.]  They  have  crept  into 
power  through  the  apathy  of  some  men  and  the  partisanship  of 
others.  They  have  grown  to  believe  themselves  the  natural  rulers  of 
the  people,  they  have  used  their  offices  for  their  own  good  and  that  of 
their  associates  ;  they  have  ruled  you  with  an  absolute  sway.  What 
wonder  is  it  then  that  they  should  use  every  means,  and  with  the 
lowest  means  they  are  the  most  familiar,  to  defeat  your  effort  to 
throw  off  their  weight  and  try  to  perpetuate  forever  their  ill-used 
power !  What  wonder  that  the  men  who  were  caught  in  the  act  of 
defrauding  you  but  a  few  weeks  ago,  who  have  persistently  declined 
to  investigate  that  'hole'  [laughter],  who  have  the  audacity  to  ask 
you  to  prolong  their  power  by  the  very  votes  of  which  for  years  they 
have  deprived  you  [applause],  should  go  but  a  step  further  and  call 
themselves  honorable  and  the  people  of  Philadelphia  the  criminal 
classes!  [Cheers.]  Do  they  answer  our  arguments?  No.  Do 
they  reply  to  our  questions?  No.  Do  they  deny  that  our  debt  is 
steadily  increasing  5  that  our  taxation  has  quadrupled  ;  that  rents 
are  forced  up  and  great  industries  driven  from  our  city ;  that  the 


78  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

people  are  deceived  and  plundered  right  and  left ;  that  great  public 
improvements  are  often  turned  into  great  private  jobs ;  that  the 
offices  of  the  city  are  in  unworthy  hands ;  that  they  whom  you  have 
trusted  have  deceived  you ;  whom  you  have  honored  have  betrayed 
you ;  whom  you  have  made  your  servants  have  sought  to  be  your 
masters?  Do  they  deny  any  of  these  things?  Fellow-citizens,  no. 
They  content  themselves  with  one  general  answer :  That  the  safety 
of  this  city  demands  the  success  of  the  Republican  party,  that  Mr. 
Stokley  is  not  at  all  the  kind  of  man  for  mayor,  but  that  he  has 
given  you  a  good  police.  [Laughter.]  The  safety  of  Philadelphia 
depends  upon  no  party,  and  upon  the  success  of  no  party  candidate. 
[Cheers.]  It  rests  on  the  character  and  intelligence  of  its  citizens, 
and  if  they  be  content  to  be  ruled  by  men  of  neither  ability  nor 
character,  to  intrust  the  control  of  their  public  affairs  to  those  to 
whom  few  of  them  would  commit  their  private  business,  no  Repub 
lican  nor  any  other  party  can  save  their  city  from  destruction. 
[Applause.]  Corruption  is  a  disease  of  rapid  growth,  and  for  it 
there  is  but  a  single  cure.  [Cheers.]  I  don't  object  to  Mr.  Stokley 
as  a  man.  That  he  has  raised  himself  to  a  place  of  prominence  in 
this  community,  if  the  means  he  has  always  made  use  of  have  been 
beyond  a  question,  should  be  in  this  country  especially  an  honor  to 
him.  It  is — or  let  me  say  it  should  be — the  peculiar  pride  of  Ameri 
cans  that  here,  under  our  free  institutions,  there  is  for  every  man  a 
chance,  and  no  aristocracy  is  recognized  but  an  aristocracy  of  brains 
and  character.  [Applause.]  Nor  do  I  object  to  Mr.  Stokley  because 
he.  is  a  politician.  I  do  not  share  the  usual  contempt  of  men  for  that 
much-abused  title.  It  is  in  itself  an  honorable  name.  There  can 
be  no  profession  more  honorable,  short  of  the  ministry  of  Christ, 
than  the  profession  of  politician  ;  but  of  politician  in  its  nobler, 
better  sense.  To  devote  great  talents  and  lofty  character  to  the 
common  good,  to  consecrate  great  powers  to  the  service  of  the  State, 
to  stand  up  in  her  defence  unmoved  alike  by  the  fickle  winds  of 
favor  or  the  tempests  of  adversity,  to  act  from  no  motive  but  love 
of  the  common  weal, — this  is  to  be  a  politician  and  a  statesman 
[applause],  though  small  men,  by  the  practice  of  low,  selfish  arts, 
have  dragged  both  names  down  into  disgrace.  I  say  I  object  to  Mr. 
Stokley  not  because  he  is  a  politician  and  has  taken  an  active  part 
in  the  affairs  of  his  division  and  his  ward,  for  that  is  what  every 
patriotic  American  should  do.  [Applause.] 


SPEECH  AT  HORTICULTURAL  HALL.  79 

"But  I  do  object  to  him  because  he  is  identified  with  bad  govern 
ment  in  Philadelphia.  [Loud  applause.]  Because  he  is  an  instru 
ment  in  the  hands  and  to-day  the  chief  representative  of  a  band  of 
politicians  who  have  been  tried  and  long  ago  found  wanting  [ap 
plause]  ;  who  have  plundered  this  people  and  lowered  the  tone  of 
public  morals ;  who  have  done  more  to  drag  down  the  name  of  poli 
tician,  and  prevent  the  rise  of  talent  and  of  honest  worth,  than  any 
class  of  men  who  ever  ruled  a  city.  [Great  applause.]  Talk  of  the 
old  Greek  tyrannies,  of  oligarchs,  and  the  thirty  tyrants  who  poisoned 
Socrates  and  banished  honest  men  from  Athens !  This  is  a  more 
frightful  tyranny.  This  is  an  enlightened  age.  These  are  the  days 
of  newspapers,  the  teachers  of  morality  to  the  people,  of  common 
schools,  of  the  railroad  and  the  telegraph.  It  is  a  tyranny  over  mind 
as  well  as  body  ;  it  is  an  organized  attempt  to  exclude  all  independ 
ence,  all  character,  all  ability,  from  any  share  of  power,  and  prosti 
tute  the  highest  offices  to  the  lowest  purposes.  [Cheers.]  This  is 
why  the  Ring  rulers  of  Philadelphia  draw  the  line  so  low, — they 
know  that  to  lift  their  standard  half  an  inch  on  the  scale  of  ability 
or  honesty  would  be  forever  to  exclude  themselves.  [Great  ap 
plause.]  This  is  why  they  shut  up  every  avenue  to  honor  in  this 
city  and  force  all  aspirants  for  power  to  follow  in  their  train.  This 
is  why  they  fight  all  good  reforms ;  why  they  conduct  this  canvass 
with  slander  and  abuse, — because  they  have  determined  that  no  man 
of  character,  ability,  or  independence  shall  ever  rule  in  Philadelphia. 
[Applause.] 

"Between  him  and  them  they  know  there  must  be  warfare  unto 
death,  and  they  are  bound,  if  it  be  possible,  to  drive  such  men  for 
ever  out  of  public  life.  It  is  a  necessity  of  their  being, — it  is  their 
only  safeguard  in  the  future,  to  make  a  canvass  so  low,  so  degrading, 
so  revolting  to  every  sense  of  right,  that  no  man  in  the  future  whom 
you  may  ask  to  serve  you  will  be  willing  to  subject  himself  and  his 
family  to  the  horrors  of  a  canvass  before  the  people  of  Philadelphia ! 
[Applause.]  I  remember  to  have  read  that  when  a  great  man  was 
attacked  by  his  enemies  who  sought  to  banish  him  from  Athens,  he 
met  a  citizen  who  asked  him  to  write  his  name  on  a  vote  in  favor  of 
his  banishment.  '  What  has  he  done  to  offend  you  ?'  asked  the 
statesman.  '  Nothing,'  replied  the  man,  who  did  not  know  the  other; 
'  but  I  want  him  banished  because  I  hate  to  hear  a  man  always  called 
the  Good  and  Just.'  It  is  this  state  of  feeling  among  the  people  of 


80  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

Philadelphia  which  these  men  hope  to  foster  and  to  cultivate, — in 
spite  of  good  examples, — in  spite  of  schools  and  newspapers, — in 
spite  of  all  the  teachings  of  the  past.  And  it  is  this  system  which 
you  will  perpetuate  if  you  re-elect  Mr.  Stokley.  [Applause.]  You 
will  say  amen  to  all  the  past  and  set  the  seal  of  your  approval  on 
the  present  municipal  government  and  postpone  deliverance  perhaps 
for  a  generation  or  perhaps  forever.  [Applause.]  And  think,  my 
friends,  what  a  lesson  you  teach  the  young  men  of  Philadelphia ! 
Remember,  you  who  are  old  men,  that  your  children  did  not  see 
the  times  when  this  city  was  governed  by  her  best  and  ablest  citizens ; 
when  (it  is  but  thirty  or  forty  years  ago)  you  sent  to  your  Councils 
men  like  Joseph  R.  Chandler  [applause],  and  Frederick  Fraley  [ap 
plause],  and  Joseph  G.  Clarkson  [applause],  and  George  Sharswood 
[applause],  and  Henry  J.  Williams  [applause],  and  Peter  McCall 
[applause]  ;  when  they  were  presided  over  by  James  Page  [ap 
plause],  and  Joseph  R.  Ingersoll  [applause],  and  William  Bradford 
[great  applause],  and  your  Select  Council  for  nearly  sixteen  years 
by  no  less  a  man  than  AVilliam  Morris  Meredith.  [Great  applause.] 
Remember,  I  repeat,  we  have  never  seen  such  times  as  those,  and 
you  know  the  influence  of  bad  example  upon  youth.  Perpetuate  this 
Ring  and  you  say  to  the  young  men  of  Philadelphia, — l  Honesty  is 
not  the  best  policy  ;  it  is  all  a  lie.  The  lust  of  power  and  greed  for 
gold, — these  are  the  noblest  sentiments  that  can  move  the  human 
heart.  The  people  of  Philadelphia  want  nothing  better  than  selfish 
politicians  to  rule  over  them.  Purity  is  weakness, — honest  men  are 
fools.  To  be  patriotic  is  to  be  insane, — to  have  ability  is  to  be  over 
burdened  in  the  race  of  life.  To  be  a  man  of  culture  is  to  be  a  snob !' 
[Great  cheering.]  This  is  the  lesson  which  Mayor  Stokley's  re-elec 
tion  will  teach  ;  and  on  you  will  rest  the  responsibility  of  teaching 
it.  [Applause.]  And  do  not  doubt  that  your  children  will  better 
the  instruction.  My  fellow-citizens,  in  less  than  three  years  the  eyes 
of  all  men  will  be  turned  to  Philadelphia.  The  celebration  of  a 
great  event  will  bring  to  your  city  the  representatives  of  every  race. 
Then,  when  they  shall  gather  reverently  about  the  birthplace  of 
your  liberty, — when,  on  that  great  anniversary,  men  of  all  nations 
shall  stand  in  Independence  Hall  and  gaze  upon  the  portraits  of 
Adams,  and  Jeiferson,  and  Washington,  Benjamin  Franklin,  and 
your  own  Robert  Morris,  will  you  have  them  say  :  *  Begun  and  ended 
in  an  hundred  years  !  This  people  had  every  blessing  which  Provi- 


RESULT  OF  ELECTION  IN  "PENN  MONTHLY."     81 

dence  could  bestow, — and  threw  it  to  the  winds ;  Prosperity, — and 
they  trampled  it  under  foot;  Power, — and  they  bartered  it  away  ; 
Liberty, — and  they  sold  her  into  bondage ;  Virtue, — and  they  drove 
her  from  among  them !  In  all  things  they  were  fortunate,  and 
in  all  things  unworthy.  What  is  gold  without  honor?  What  is 
America  without  that  which  chiefly  constitutes  a  State, — an  honest 
man  ?'  [Continued  cheering.]  My  fellow-citizens,  it  is  for  you  alone 
to  decide  the  future  of  your  country.  But  if  you  would  be  true  to 
the  teachings  of  your  fathers,  true  to  your  duty  to  posterity,  decide 
aright  the  question  now  hanging  on  your  acts,  and  let  the  sun  go 
down  next  Tuesday  afternoon  upon  a  redeemed  city,  in  a  regenerated 
Commonwealth."  [Great  and  continued  applause.] 

The  result  of  this  hard-fought  election  is  given  in  Mr. 
Brown's  words  in  the  March  number  of  the  Penn  Monthly, 
1874.  Rewrites: 

u  It  was  a  struggle  between  enthusiasm  and  organization,  and  the 
latter  triumphed,  as  it  generally  will.  On  election  day  the  First 
Ward  and  the  Tenth  were  literally  taken  possession  of  by  repeaters, 
and  the  Democratic  districts,  under  the  lead  of  statesmen  like  Mr. 

and   the  Hon.  ,  declined  to  give  the  usual  Democratic 

majorities.  The  command  of  unlimited  means  enabled  the  party 
in  power  to  scatter  messengers  and  extras  of  newspapers  with 
imaginary  returns  in  every  quarter  of  the  city.  A  panic  was  thus 
produced,  and  the  innumerable  company  of  men  upon  the  fence, 
hesitating  how  to  exercise  the  inalienable  right  of  freemen,  jumped 
down  with  one  accord  upon  the  Stokley  side.  In  a  poll  of  nearly 
one  hundred  and  eleven  thousand  the  Republican  candidate  had 
about  eleven  thousand  majority.  It  has  become  so  customary  after 
elections  in  this  country  for  the  defeated  party  to  raise  the  cry  of 
fraud  that  it  has  quite  lost  its  significance,  and  seems  to  be  a  sequel 
to  every  political  contest.  In  this  case,  however,  the  fraud  was  not 
of  the  kind  with  which  we  have  become  familiar  under  the  registry 
law ;  it  was  perpetrated  rather  through  personation  and  repeating 
than  by  false  count,  though  in  some  cases  where  the  minority  in 
spector  could  be  bought,  that  also  was  indulged  in,  but  it  is  not  reas 
suring  to  find  that  the  safeguards  which  the  new  constitution  was 
supposed  to  throw  about  the  ballot  do  not  avail  to  secure  to  Philadel- 


82  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

phia  a  fair  and  free  election.  It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  an 
election  can  be  held  in  a  large  city  without  the  commission  of  fraud, 
for  we  hear  at  the  present  time  of  much  trouble  arising  from  it  in 
England,  and  in  France  elections  are  no  purer  than  elsewhere.  So 
ended  the  most  brilliant  contest  of  which  Philadelphia  has  been  the 
scene,  and  at  this  writing  the  triumph  of  those  who  opposed  the  new 
constitution  and  were  sixty  days  ago  wearing  sackcloth  and  ashes, 
their  knees  knocking  together  under  them  for  fear,  seems  complete. 
The  most  peculiar  feature  of  the  case  is  the  want  of  enthusiasm  with 
which  the  success  of  the  Ring  is  hailed  by  its  most  respectable  sup 
porters.  It  is  a  victory  over  which  there  has  been  little  exultation, 
a  triumph  over  which  there  have  been  tears." 

The  Penn  Monthly  Magazine  had  for  many  years  been 
carried  on  by  a  number  of  young  Philadelphians  in  the 
interest  of  social,  political,  and  educational  science,  aiming, 
above  all,  at  the  thoughtful  diffusion  of  true  principles  of 
government  and  political  rights.  Mr.  Brown  found  a 
corner  in  this  publication,  and  for  four  or  five  years  of  his 
life  he  was  editor  of  the  department  entitled  the  "  Month." 
This  consisted  of  disconnected  articles,  sometimes  only 
paragraphs,  upon  subjects  of  passing  but  not  fleeting  in 
terest,  as  he  often  headed  his  remarks,  "It  is  not  designed 
to  discuss  here  all  the  chief  topics  of  current  interest,  but 
only  those  upon  which  we  have  something  to  say."  Here, 
as  learnedly  or  lightly,  just,  in  fact,  as  he  felt  at  the  mo 
ment,  he  touched  the  salient  points  of  characters  and  events. 
Up  to  this  period  a  great  variety  of  subjects  (though  they 
grew  to  be  more  and  more  of  a  political  nature)  had  been 
treated  in  a  crisp  way, — the  new  German  empire ;  the  old 
Catholic  congress;  financial  questions  and  paper  money; 
English  high-churchism ;  Mr.  Froude  and  Father  Burke ; 
republicanism  in  Spain  ;  the  epizootic;  the  Siamese  twins ; 
the  electoral  vote  for  President ;  Agassiz ;  Bismarck ; 
McMahon;  government  appointments;  Grant's  adminis- 


CONTRIBUTIONS   TO   " PENN  MONTHLY."  §3 

tration ;  Credit  Mobilier ;  the  currency  bill;  strikes  in 
England ;  municipal  reform ;  civil  service  reform ;  the 
coming  Centennial  Exposition ;  and  a  vast  many  other 
themes  of  more  or  less  importance.  We  shall  have  occa 
sion  to  quote  from  the  "  Month."  Two  or  three  specimens 
of  these  literary  improvisations  may  give  some  idea  of 
their  character.  Their  estimate  of  men  and  things  is  not 
always  as  "  all  think." 

"  The  death  of  Charles  Sumner  ends  at  once  all  controversy  in 
reference  to  his  recent  unpopular  course  in  the  Senate,  and  recalls 
only  his  great  services  to  the  nation  in  his  earlier  and  better  years. 
He  was  a  thoroughly  educated  man,  and  his  whole  life  was  an 
instance  of  the  result  of  culture  in  a  man  of  not  uncommon  gifts. 
Besides  a  fine  personal  appearance,  nature  had  not  bestowed  on 
Mr.  Sumner  many  strong  qualities  either  of  mind  or  judgment. 
lie  was  from  the  outset,  and  he  remained  to  the  last,  a  diligent, 
patient,  exhaustive  student,  and  his  work  at  the  bar,  in  the  Senate, 
and  on  the  stump. — though  it  seems  to  class  his  elegant  oratory 
with  the  effusions  of  our  ordinary  politicians, — was  always  the 
result  of  hard,  steady  application.  As  a  lawyer  he  reported  and 
edited  the  opinions  of  others ;  he  lectured  on  law  at  Harvard  Col 
lege,  and  wrote  a  pamphlet  on  the  Oregon  question,  but  he  gained 
no  great  distinction  at  the  bar.  His  entry  into  political  life  was  in 
opposition,  and  he  showed  to  best  advantage  in  his  persistent  advo 
cacy  of  the  abolition  of  slavery  and  in  the  establishment  of  equal 
rights  to  the  colored  race.  His  addresses  in  and  out  of  the  Senate 
were  labored,  careful,  and  thorough,  but  had  little  of  the  fire  of 
eloquence  or  the  force  of  conviction  in  them.  But  in  them,  as  in 
his  whole  life,  he  was  honest,  open,  straightforward,  and  persistent. 
lie  alone  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  maintained  the  tradi 
tions  of  the  orators  of  an  earlier  day,  as  one  who  had  united 
scholarly  eloquence  with  active  political  partisanship,  and  with  him 
the  race  of  great  public  speakers  seems  at  an  end.  Contrasted  with 
Clay  and  Webster,  it  is  clear  that  he  had  little  of  their  innate  fire 
and  genius,  but  measured  by  the  standard  of  the  colleagues  of  to 
day,  there  is  no  one  of  them  who  could  cope  with  him  in  the  sort 
of  studied  oratory  which  he  made  his  own  to  the  very  last.  But 


84  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

his  best  and  highest  quality  as  a  citizen  and  as  a  Senator  was  his 
inflexible  honesty.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  be  asked 
or  expected  to  do  anything  that  would  sully  his  character,  and  no 
man  ever  suspected  him  of  any  but  honest  motives  in  all  he  did. 
His  love  of  literature  led  him  into  kindred  pursuits  of  art,  and  his 
collection  of  books  and  pictures,  of  rare  engravings  and  sculpture, 
was  such  as  showed  the  nicest  taste  and  the  most  refined  culture. 
In  this,  too,  he  stood  almost  alone,  for  his  colleagues  in  Congress 
are  too  deeply  immersed  in  the  business  of  politics  to  have  any  time 
for  the  cultivation  of  their  intellects.  As  a  representative,  therefore, 
of  the  best  culture  of  the  country,  his  loss  will  be  felt  in  Washington 
and  in  Boston.  The  incidents  of  his  life  are  too  well  known  to  be 
rehearsed  here,  and  his  death  is  too  recent  for  an  impartial  judgment 
of  his  merits  as  a  statesman  and  of  his  services  to  his  country.  His 
example  of  honesty  in  the  midst  of  corruption,  of  courage  in  the  face 
of  bitter  hostility,  may  well  efface  the  painful  recollections  of  the 
later  years  of  his  life,  embittered  by  ill  health  and  domestic  griefs." 

There  are  many  published  statements  and  utterances  of 
Mr.  Brown  which  show  that  he  held  in  high  esteem  the 
memory  and  character  of  him  whose  "  empty  chair"  was 
for  so  long  the  most  eloquent  speech  in  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States. 

"  The  counting  of  the  electoral  vote  for  President  and  Vice-Presi- 
dent  has  brought  to  public  notice  the  dangers  and  absurdities  of  the 
present  system  of  choosing  our  Chief  Magistrate,  and  the  consequent 
propriety  of  sweeping  changes  in  the  Constitution.  The  main  pur 
pose  of  the  authors  of  our  present  arrangements  has  been  entirely 
defeated  by  the  shape  that  partisan  organizations  and  methods  have 
taken,  and  the  cumbersome  machinery  of  the  electoral  colleges  now 
serves  no  purpose  whatever.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  is  not  the 
only  part  of  the  Constitution  that  will  be  changed.  Let  the  Presi 
dential  term  be  extended  to  ten  years  and  a  re-election  forbidden. 
Bring  all  civil  officials,  except  members  of  the  Cabinet  and  foreign 
ministers,  under  the  tenure  of  office  that  now  applies  to  the  judges — 
'  for  life  or  good  behavior.'  And  abolish  all  the  local  restrictions 
that  prevent  citizens  of  one  State  from  being  elected  to  the  service 
of  another,  either  in  the  State  government  or  in  Congress.  This 


CONTRIBUTIONS   TO   "  PENN  MONTHLY."  85 

last  amendment  would  do  much  to  give  breadth  and  true  nationality 
of  spirit  to  our  public  men.  It  would  deter  men  of  foresight  from 
giving  themselves  up  to  the  petty  and  selfish  aims  of  a  district,  by 
the  hope  that  their  self-denial  and  really  public  spirit  would  meet 
with  appreciation  elsewhere  ;  '  a  prophet  has  honor  save  in  his  own 
country  and  in  his  father's  house.'  It  would  relieve  our  younger 

and  weaker  States  from  the  necessity  of  sending , ,  and 

other  corruptibilities  and  vacuities  to  the  United  States  Senate,  with 
out  inipairing  beyond  measure  the  care  exercised  by  Congressmen  to 
promote  the  special  interests  of  their  constituents.  As  it  is,  Congress 
men  are  mere  local  errand-boys  to  the  national  struggle  for  the  loaves 
and  the  fishes,  and  Ruskin's  gibe  was  not  without  its  truth:  'There 
is  no  res  publica  in  America,  only  a  multitudinous  res  privates.'1  " 

"Governor  Dix,  of  New  York,  has  fully  justified  those  who  built 
their  hopes  upon  his  firmness  and  manliness  of  character.  In  re 
fusing  to  commute  the  sentence  of  Foster  he  resisted  as  terrible  a 
pressure  as  ever  sought  to  sway  a  man's  judgment.  In  a  calm  and 
earnest  letter  to  Dr.  Tyng,  who  was  foremost  in  seeking  to  save 
Foster's  life,  the  governor  gives  his  reasons  for  doing  what  he  con 
ceives  to  be  his  duty.  They  are  such  as  one  would  expect  from  him. 
With  a  tenderness  that  is  morbid,  for  which  we  are  remarkable  in 
this  country,  we  forget  that  when  a  jury  has  pronounced  upon  a 
man's  guilt,  and  the  courts  have  determined  that  he  has  been  law 
fully  tried  and  found  guilty,  his  punishment  becomes  a  question  of 
the  execution  of  the  laws.  A  jury  is  not  required  to  consider  the 
consequences,  but  the  act  itself,  and  to  find,  not  whether  a  man 
shall  be  imprisoned  for  life  or  put  to  death,  but  whether  or  not  he  is 
guilty  of  the  offence  with  which  he  is  charged.  For  certain  crimes 
the  wisdom  of  mankind,  directed  and  modified  by  experience,  has 
fixed  certain  punishments,  and  he  deserves  well  of  his  country  who, 
unmoved  by  fear  or  favor  and  undismayed  by  responsibility,  stands 
firmly  by  his  duty,  as  he  understands  it,  and  executes  the  command 
of  that  law  which  is  the  safeguard  of  us  all." 

"  The  Connecticut  election  is  full  of  significance,  and  at  the  same 
time  it  is  not.  Connecticut  is  always  an  uncertain  State,-  and  this 
year  the  feuds  among  the  Republican  leaders,  coupled  with  the 
strength  of  Governor  Ingersoll  and  the  prestige  of  his  excellent 


86  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

administration,  would  have  made  the  result  doubtful  in  any  case. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  prize  for  which  both  parties  were  con 
tending  was  not  the  governorship,  which  is  open  every  year,  but 
the  seat  in  the  Senate  occupied  for  the  past  six  years  by  Governor 
Buckingham.  Under  these  circumstances  the  defeat  of  the  Repub 
licans  is  a  severe  blow.  Their  candidate  this  year  was  an  excellent 
one,  the  leader  of  the  bar  in  New  Haven,  and  nothing  was  left 
undone  to  win  success.  But  in  Connecticut,  as  in  some  other  States 
of  the  Union,  many  of  the  best  men  in  the  Republican  ranks  have 
become  disheartened  and  disgusted ;  and  in  such  a  state  of  feeling 
there  seem  to  be  worse  things  in  this  life  than  the  defeat  of  one's 
party.  Some  stayed  away  from  the  polls,  and  others  even  voted 
against  the  ticket  from  the  belief  that  a  defeat,  perhaps,  would  be 
beneficial  punishment  to  the  leaders  of  the  party.  It  must  be 
added,  too,  that  the  Democracy  of  Connecticut  is  of  rather  a  liberal 
and  practical  kind.  It  is  very  apt  to  place  good  men  before  the 
people,  and  is  not  entirely  incapable  of  taking  advantage  of  its 
opponents'  mistakes.  It  has  courted,  too,  rather  than  repelled  the 
advances  of  the  Liberals  and  of  discontented  Republicans  with  evi 
dent  benefit  to  itself.  Should  the  re-election  of  so  admirable  a 
governor  as  Mr.  Ingersoll  be  followed  by  the  choice  of  some  equally 
good  man  as  Mr.  Buckingham's  successor,  there  will  be  no  occasion 
to  regret  this  Republican  defeat ;  but  there  is  great  danger,  from 
what  we  hear,  of  the  election  of  some  one  who  will  strengthen 
neither  the  State,  the  Senate,  nor  the  cause  of  reform." 

"  The  French  Assembly  has  had  one  or  two  strong  debates.  One 
of  these  occasions  gave  M.  Gambetta  an  opportunity,  which  he  im 
proved,  to  make  a  brilliant  speech.  But  the  day  has  gone  by  when 
a  speech  can  affect  the  result  of  such  contests.  Where  the  feeling 
is  marked,  a  striking  figure  or  appeal  may  deepen  it,  as  in  the 
debate  in  which  D'Audriffet-Pasquier  likened  Alsace  and  Lorraine 
to  the  lost  legions  of  Varus,  and  roused  the  feelings  of  his  hearers 
to  the  utmost  ;  but  it  is  to  be  doubted  if  it  is  possible  for  any  orator 
at  the  present  day  to  overcome  prejudice,  or  break  to  pieces  by  any 
power  of  speech  the  chains  forged  and  riveted  by  political  manage 
ment  and  intrigue. 

"  The  system  adopted  here  at  home  of  carrying  on  legislative 
business  forbids  the  cultivation  of  oratory  by  robbing  it  of  practical 


HAS  ORATORY  GONE   OUT?  87 

effect;  the  habit  of  writing  speeches  is  death  to  debate,  and  the 
customs  now  so  successfully  practised  of  lobbying  and  log-rolling 
put  on  the  finishing  touches.  The  gift  of  eloquence  is  apt  to  be 
undervalued  in  a  country  where  money  is  the  standard  of  worth, 
and  is  sure  to  be  despised  by  those  who  have  it  not.  The  taste  of 
the  age,  too,  is  growing  less  favorable  to  speech-making,  and  the 
orations  of  M.  Gambetta,  and  of  Sefior  Castelar,  are  far  less  effective 
now  than  they  would  have  been  fifty  years  ago.  Oratory  is  going 
out  with  the  romantic  and  the  picturesque." 

That  oratory  is  "  going  out,"  or  lias  gone  out,  we  do  not 
believe.  Mr.  Carlyle  may  tell  us  that  "  silence  is  the  eter 
nal  duty  of  man" ;  but  oratory  is  a  fact  of  human  nature. 
Macaulay  suggests  that  the  scientific  intellect  has  usurped 
the  place  of  the  primitive  emotions,  and  therefore  great 
poets  and  orators  are  no  longer  the  power  they  were.  But 
it  is  the  occasion  which  brings  out  the  orator.  In  our 
recent  stormy  history,  at  one  of  the  great  war-meetings,  a 
plain  Connecticut  governor,  who  had  no  conception  that  he 
would  be  called  an  orator,  made  the  most  eloquent  address 
it  was  our  fortune  ever  to  hear.  He  cast  rhetoricians  be 
hind  his  back.  He  turned  men's  minds  as  rivers  of  water 
are  turned.  In  the  time  of  need  the  orator  or  prophet 
appears.  The  man  of  heroic  will,  of  cheerful  hope,  of  the 
ready  hand  and  the  ready  speech,  who  speaks  out  of  a  pas 
sionate  heart,  who  speaks  wisely  as  well  as  courageously, 
then  becomes  the  master  influence.  All  obey  because  God 
breathes  through  him,  and  the  truth  is  with  him  as  a  visible 
sceptre.  Emerson  says  that  "  it  is  rare  to  find  a  man  who 
believes  his  own  thought  or  who  speaks  that  which  he  was 
created  to  say" ;  but  when  such  a  man  appears  there  is  the 
power  to  sway  minds  which  we  call  eloquence.  Our  own 
orator,  at  all  events,  in  spite  of  his  Penn  Monthly  theories, 
had  not  yet  won  his  greatest  triumph.  That  was  to  come, 
and  was  soon  to  come. 


88  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

It  was  now  nearly  approaching  the  time  when  another 
important  event  in  the  country's  history  was  to  have  its 
centennial  anniversary ;  and  this  time  the  scene  was  at  home 
in  Philadelphia. 

On  the  5th  of  September,  1774,  the  first  Continental 
Congress  that  had  been  called  to  deliberate  upon  the  troubles 
which  were  growing  more  and  more  serious  between  the 
colonies  and  the  parent  country,  met  at  Carpenters7  Hall. 
This  venerable  building,  so  intimately  associated  with  the 
Revolutionary  period,  was  erected  in  1768,  by  the  Carpen 
ters'  Company  of  Philadelphia,  which  still  occupies  it,  pre 
serving  its  relics  and  its  appearance,  as  far  as  possible,  both 
within  and  without.  "  It  stands  in  the  centre  of  a  little 
court,  or  cul-de-sac,  approached  from  Chestnut  Street  by  a 
narrow  alley,  between  Third  and  Fourth  Streets.  It  is  of 
cruciform  shape,  two  stories  in  height,  surmounted  by  a 
cupola,  and  is  constructed  of  red  and  black  bricks,  in  a 
style  in  vogue  a  century  ago, — its  checkered  walls  being  in 
curious  correspondence  with  its  history.  In  general  archi 
tectural  style  it  closely  resembles  Independence  Hall.  The 
plainness  of  the  fa§ade  is  relieved  somewhat  by  balustrades 
under  the  upper  windows,  and  by  a  portico  in  Doric  style, 
which  is  called  'a  frontispiece'  in  the  old  minutes  of  the 
company.  For  '  turning  the  columns  of  the  frontispiece' 
Samuel  Fletcher  was  paid,  according  to  the  minutes,  the 
sum  of  two  pounds  and  three  pence.  The  lot  attached  to 
the  building  originally  extended  out  to  Chestnut  Street,  and 
was  leased  at  an  annual  ground-rent  of  ( 176  Spanish  milled 
pieces  of  eight/  but  it  became  too  valuable  for  the  company 
to  retain,  and  they  now  hold  only  a  few  square  yards  of 
grass-plots  and  walks  in  front  of  the  hall,  and  a  narrow 
strip  at  the  sides  and  rear.  The  huge  bulk  of  the  build 
ings  in  front,  upon  the  street,  eclipses  entirely  the  modest, 


THE  "CARPENTERS'   HALL"   ADDRESS.  39 

quaint  old  hall,  and  its  eventful  history  was  almost  as  effec 
tually  eclipsed  by  the  throng  of  recent  events  until  the 
approach  of  the  Centennial  of  American  Independence 
brought  it  to  notice."  The  chief  interest  attached  to  the 
hall  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  first  Continental  Congress 
met  there,  and  held  its  first  and  second  sessions  in  the  large 
room  on  the  ground-floor  of  the  building.  The  carpenters 
have  a  tradition  that  the  Constitutional  Convention  met  in 
the  same  room  in  1789,  and  held  there  the  whole  of  the 
four  months'  session  during  which  the  Constitution  was 
formed.  But  this  cannot  be  substantiated;  and  probably 
Carpenters'  Hall  is  not  entitled  to  the  honor  claimed  for  it 
of  having  sheltered  the  Fathers  of  the  Republic  while  they 
were  engaged  in  forming  the  Constitution ;  but  notwith 
standing  this  doubt  it  is  an  historically  interesting  edifice. 
In  the  hall  itself  are  the  desks  and  chairs  used  by  the  fifty- 
four  Continental  delegates,  and  they  are  in  about  the  same 
position  as  they  were  one  hundred  years  ago.  It  seats  some 
four  hundred  persons,  and,  on  the  day  of  the  celebration  in 
1874,  it  was  closely  packed,  while  a  patient  crowd  stood 
without  during  the  speaking.  A  profusion  of  flags  deco 
rated  the  interior,  and  upon  the  walls  hung  the  portraits  of 
Peyton  Randolph,  President  of  the  Congress,  of  the  Rev. 
Jacob  Duche",  its  chaplain,  who  offered  the  memorable 
prayer  (how  great  the  pity  that  he  should  have  afterwards 
turned  Tory !),  and  of  Thomas  Mifflin,  an  early  governor 
of  Pennsylvania.  On  the  platform,  during  the  speaking, 
sat  Vice-President  Wilson,  General  Hawley,  of  Connecti 
cut,  members  of  Congress,  and  other  dignitaries.  John 
Welsh,  Esq.,  of  Philadelphia,  presided,  and  made  a  short 
and  forcible  speech,  which  was  followed  by  Mr.  Brown's 
oration.  This  is  printed  among  the  addresses  at  the  end  of 
this  volume.  It  is  certainly  not  too  much  to  say  that  in 

7 


90  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

its  matter  and  manner  it  was  the  most  elegant  speech  de 
livered  in  any  part  of  the  country  during  the  Centennial 
period,  and  its  immediate  impression  was  truly  extraordi 
nary.  The  orator's  portraitures  of  Revolutionary  characters, 
especially  of  Patrick  Henry  and  Washington,  were  so  vivid, 
that  whole  ranks  of  persons  in  the  audience  rose  and  turned 
around  to  look  in  the  direction  where  he  pointed,  as  if  ex 
pecting  to  see  those  men  of  a  hundred  years  ago  sitting  in 
their  places.  It  was  a  triumph  of  the  imagination  seldom 
witnessed.  It  was,  too,  an  earnest  and  soul-full  address, 
fired  by  the  noblest  sentiments.  It  struck  a  deep  chord. 
The  New  York  Tribune  spoke  thus  of  the  occasion  :  "  The 
ceremonies  at  Carpenters'  Hall  in  Philadelphia  stir  the 
popular  heart  with  a  feeling  of  patriotism  and  pride  of 
country  which  in  these  days  is  not  as  common  as  it  might 
be.  The  national  holiday  has  degenerated  into  a  noisy 
nuisance.  The  lives  of  the  heroes  of  the  Revolution  have 
been  turned  into  cheap  jokes.  It  is  well  that  at  least  once 
in  a  hundred  years,  if  no  oftener,  we  consent  to  reflect  seri 
ously  for  a  few  moments  upon  the  early  scenes  of  our  his 
tory,  and  compare  the  statesmen  of  the  ancient  time  with 
our  own.  Philadelphia  was  fortunate  on  Saturday  in  the 
choice  of  an  orator.  If  all  the  speeches  inspired  by  the 
Centennial  are  to  be  even  half  as  good  as  Mr.  Brown's,  we 
shall  be  unexpectedly  blest/'  In  a  more  elaborate  notice 
the  same  paper  added :  "  The  oration  delivered  on  Satur 
day  at  the  centennial  anniversary  at  Carpenters'  Hall  of 
the  first  meeting  of  the  Continental  Congress,  was  a  worthy 
tribute  to  the  principles  and  the  men  that  were  represented 
on  that  ever-memorable  occasion.  Those  who  listened  to 
the  burning  words  of  the  young  Philadelphian  at  Faneuil 
Hall  on  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  Boston  tea-party, 
will  remember  the  affluence  of  historical  knowledge  as  well 


THE  "CARPENTERS'   HALL"   ADDRESS.  91 

as  the  broad  and  earnest  patriotism  with  which  his  views 
were  enforced,  and  will  be  prepared  for  the  exhibition  of 
similar  characteristics  in  his  latest  production." 

The  Philadelphia  Press  said :  "As  the  exercises  con 
tinued,  and  the  oration  of  the  day  was  being  delivered,  the 
whole  aspect  of  the  assembly  changed.  Those  there  seated 
were  no  longer  men  of  business,  but  sons  of  liberty  who  had 
suddenly  realized  the  grandeur  of  their  birthright.  The 
thrilling  oration  fanned  into  a  white  heat  the  long-smothered 
embers  of  patriotism  until  the  air  seemed  heavy  with  the 
magnetic  influence  of  deep  emotion  and  mental  excitement. 
Time  and  again  the  speaker  was  enthusiastically  applauded, 
and,  when  at  last  he  bowed  himself  from  the  platform,  the 
whole  audience  unconsciously  arose,  the  better  to  express 
their  admiration  of  and  gratitude  to  the  orator  for  once  more 
rekindling  the  fires  of  early  patriotism.  The  scene  was  one 
never  to  be  forgotten.  Old  men  whose  years  overlapped 
the  nineties  stood  erect  with  a  renewed  youth  and  waved 
their  hats  in  the  air,  and  the  young  men,  to  whom  the  word 
liberty  had  long  been  so  familiar  as  to  have  become  an 
empty  sound,  seemed  suddenly  to  realize  the  deep  signifi 
cance  of  the  term,  and  to  long  for  some  way  of  proving 
their  devotion  to  a  government  which  had  cost  such  precious 
blood  to  gain." 

The  Philadelphia  Evening  Herald  was  very  enthusiastic. 
We  will  quote  a  few  of  the  more  moderate  sentences : 

"  No  description  can  reproduce  the  impression  which  the 
orator  made  upon  his  audience.  He  spoke  upon  a  remark 
able  occasion  to  a  remarkable  assemblage,  and  his  most  inti 
mate  associates  who  knew  the  man  and  expected  nothing 
little  from  him,  heard  him  to  the  end  with  increasing  sur 
prise.  They  knew  that  what  they  had  heard  was  not  the 
fruit  of  protracted  study  under  favorable  auspices,  but  the 


92  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

labor  of  three  brief  weeks,  wherein  research,  composition, 
and  elocutionary  preparation  were  necessarily  blended  into 
one,  and  because  of  that  knowledge  the  achievement  was  to 
them  a  still  greater  one  than  to  the  ordinary  listener. 

"  Of  Mr.  Brown's  method  of  delivery  it  is  impossible  to 
speak  as  its  exceptional  character  warrants.  Artistically  it 
cannot  be  excelled.  It  is  powerful  without  being  crude ;  it 
is  inspiring  without  being  inflammatory,  teaching  the  mind 
as  well  as  the  heart.  It  possesses  all  the  variations  of  run 
ning  water,  now  musical  as  the  brooklet,  now  sonorous  as 
the  cadence  of  the  river.  Nature  gave  him  a  voice,  and  art 
made  him  an  orator.  Herein  lies  the  secret  of  his  oratory, 
— a  perfect  mastery  of  himself.  His  fine  voice  is  not  more 
penetrative  or  powerful  than  that  of  many  a  speaker,  but 
it  is  in  wonderful  subjection.  It  is  absolutely  free  from 
monotone,  which  is  the  distressing  feature  hardest  to  shun 
in  oratory,  as  it  is  the  most  difficult  to  unlearn.  To  sum 
it  all  up  in  a  word,  the  charm  of  Mr.  Brown's  delivery 
consists  in  his  absolute  naturalness. 

"  The  subject-matter  of  this  oration  deserves  a  more 
scholarly  analysis  than  can  be  made  in  this  review,  inas 
much  as  it  will  henceforth  be  a  part  of  our  history,  and 
because  while  the  few  will  always  remember  it  as  spoken, 
the  many  will  only  know  it  in  its  written  form." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  quote  further  from  journalists  all 
over  the  country,  who  vied  in  speaking  well  of  it,  to  show 
the  estimate  at  the  time  of  this  address.  It  must  speak  for 
itself.  The  first  thought  of  it  may  be  found  in  this  ex 
tract  from  a  letter  of  Mr.  Brown's,  dated  August  12, 1874 : 

"  I  have  been  puzzling  myself  this  afternoon — after  my  custom — 
about  an  invitation  I  received  to-day.  September  5  is  the  centennial 
of  the  first  meeting  of  the  Continental  Congress,  which  was  held  in 
Carpenters'  Hall.  One  of  the  committee  of  the  Carpenters'  Com- 


THE  "CARPENTERS'   HALL"   ADDRESS.  93 

pany  called  on  me  this  morning  to  ask  me  to  deliver  the  oration  on 
the  occasion.  I  told  him  I  would  let  him  know  to-morrow, — for  the 
time  is  very  short, — and  meantime  have  been  wondering  what  to  do. 
The  occasion  is,  perhaps,  as  good  as  any  I  have  had,  and  the  subject 
worthy  of  effort.  But  I  know  just  as  well  as  you  how  much  I  shall 
have  to  pass  through  in  these  three  weeks  of  hot  weather  in  the 
agony  of  preparing  such  a  speech  as  will  reflect  credit  on  myself  and 
do  the  occasion  justice,  and  I  am  almost  inclined  to  let  the  chance 
go  by.  Perhaps,  however,  I  may  yield  to  the  admonitions  of  the 
still,  small  but  ambitious  voice  within  me,  which  bids  me  accept 
this  invitation." 

The  address  was  certainly  not  a  random  effort  shot  at  an 
occasion,  although  composed,  as  the  above  letter  shows,  in 
an  incredibly  short  time ;  but  it  had  heart  and  toil  in  it ; 
it  was  a  production  thoroughly  wrought  as  a  work  of  art, 
with  much  careful  research,  exquisitely  true  to  fact,  cloth 
ing  past  fact  with  new  life  and  color,  and  flooding  it  with 
warm  light  like  a  great  historical  picture,  despising  the 
superficial,  the  vulgar,  the  smart,  the  boastful,  and  evincing 
a  manly  conception  of  classic  oratory  of  an  earnest  aim, 
such  as  is  now  seldom  heard.  Its  delivery  (so  it  is  said) 
was  exceedingly  powerful,  and  even  entrancing.  Perhaps 
it  would  not  be  too  much  to  say  with  another  (at  a  time 
when  some  critics  were  talking  of  the  young-mannish  rhet 
oric  of  Greece  and  Rome,  a  suspicion  of  which  appears  in 
the  oration),  "He  is  a  young  man,  it  is  true;  but  his 
address  on  Saturday  night  has  made  him  famous."* 

*  An  interesting  fact  in  regard  to  this  address  was  communicated 
to  the  family  by  the  mother  of  two  young  men  living  in  New  Eng 
land.  While  members  of  a  preparatory  school  they  were  desirous 
of  procuring  a  scholarship  in  Harvard  College,  which  they  were 
about  to  enter.  They  translated  the  Carpenters'  Hall  oration  into 
Latin,  one  of  them  taking  the  first  half  and  the  other  the  second, 
both  of  them,  by  this  means,  succeeding  in  their  object. 


94  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

Before  plunging  again  into  the  subject  of  politics,  we 
subjoin  an  extract  from  a  humorous  letter  sent  to  the  writer 
about  this  time,  on  the  occasion  of  the  playful  proposal  to 
make  the  joint  purchase  of  a  "  Castle  on  the  Rhine/7  just 
advertised  for  sale  in  the  New  York  Tribune  : 

"  The  'castle'  suits  me  perfectly.  I  can  imagine  the  satisfaction 
I  should  find  in  sitting  down  to  dinner  '  with  my  helmet  on'  in  that 
huge  dining-room  beneath  that  heavy-beamed  ceiling.  How  solemn 
the  feasts  would  be  at  the  beginning !  until  the  flowing  Rhenish  (and 
other  mediaeval  bowls)  would  wash  away  the  bounds  of  etiquette, 
and  the  vassals  would  begin  to  be  uproarious  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  table.  With  what  satisfaction,  too,  would  I  go  bare-headed  to 
the  gate  to  welcome  you,  llerr  Professor,  when  you  would  arrive  in 
pomp  and  circumstance !  Think  of  the  magnificent  banquets  we 
should  serve  up,  with  the  stately  dances  afterwards,  to  the  sound  of 
harps,  in  the  flaring  torchlight,  our  'mutual'  and  'individual'  serfs 
meanwhile  careering  around  big  bonfires  in  the  court-yard  !  I  say 
the  castle  suits  me  perfectly.  But  the  price, — there's  the  slight  dif 
ficulty.  Twenty-seven  thousand  pounds  may  be  a  small  sum  for  a 
prince,  or  a  nobleman,  or  a  '  gentleman  of  position'  on  the  Rhine,  but 
here  in  Philadelphia  it  is  large.  At  all  events,  I  shall  have  to  delib 
erate  before  I  agree  to  purchase.  Perhaps  we  might  buy  a  castle  or 
two  and  set  them  up  in  Litchfield.  You  remember  that  we  agreed 
that  pleasant  afternoon,  when  we  walked  up  to  Prospect  Hill,  that 
something  of  the  kind  was  all  that  the  scenery  there  needed  to  make 
it  European." 

Politics  had  now  a  sudden  revival,  and  another  brief  but 
sharp  contest  was  waged,  in  which  the  party  of  Reform  in 
Philadelphia  gained  a  positive  triumph.  It  was  on  the 
occasion  of  the  election  of  district  attorney,  and,  more  par 
ticularly,  upon  the  question  of  the  re-election  of  William 
B.  Mann,  Esq.,  who,  for  twenty  years,  with  but  a  short 
interval,  had  been  in  office.  Mr.  Mann  was  the  Republican 
candidate,  but  had  already  been  strongly  opposed  by  the 
Union  League  and  the  party  of  Reform  on  grounds  of  public 


LECTURING    TOURS.  95 

welfare.  A  great  meeting  was  held  in  Horticultural  Hall 
on  the  evening  of  October  30,  1874,  at  which  many  of  the 
leaders  of  the  Reform  movement  spoke,  not  only  with 
freedom  and  force,  but  with  considerable  personal  virulence. 
Mr.  Brown  was  the  fourth  speaker.  It  was  one  of  his 
most  effective  efforts,  calm  in  tone,  but  incisive  and  un 
sparing  in  its  dealing  with  persons  and  facts.  There  is  every 
evidence  that  the  election  was  influenced,  and,  in  fact,  de 
cided,  by  this  spirited  meeting  at  Horticultural  Hall.  The 
Republican  candidate  for  district  attorney  was  badly  de 
feated,  running  behind  his  ticket,  so  that  for  a  time  the 
cause  of  municipal  reform  was  in  the  ascendant.  In  an 
extract  from  a  private  letter  written  the  next  morning 
by  a  prominent  Reform  politician,  this  result  is  fore 
shadowed  :  "  I  am  told  that  our  meeting  has  done  its  work, 
and  that  the  feeling  in  the  streets  has  undergone  a  decided 
change." 

About  this  time  Mr.  Brown  delivered  his  lecture  on 
u  The  Story  of  an  Hundred  Years"  in  Boston,  as  one  of  the 
Bay  State  course  of  lectures.  He  was  introduced  to  the 
audience  by  his  friend,  James  T.  Fields,  Esq.,  who  asked 
for  him  "  the  warmest  welcome."  He  gave  this  and  other 
lectures  at  many  places  during  this  period.  He  related  a 
funny  mistake  which  happened  to  him,  similar  to  the  one 
that  occurred  to  Mr.  Froude  in  Boston.  Mr.  Brown  and 
Edith  O'Gorman,  the  escaped  nun,  lectured  in  a  town  the 
same  night.  The  next  day  he  was  invited  to  dine  out. 
The  lady  of  the  house,  in  arranging  the  table,  happened  to 
mention  the  name  of  Mr.  Brown  as  one  of  the  guests. 
"An7  who  is  Mr.  Brown  ?"  asked  the  waitress.  "  The  gen 
tleman  who  lectured  last  night."  "An'  is  he  the  escaped 
nun  ?  Sure,  I'll  not  work  another  lick  in  this  house." 
"With  that  exclamation  she  bounced  out  of  the  room,  and  it 


96  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

required  quite  an  explanation  to  induce  her  to. come  back. 
On  those  lecturing  tours  his  letters  home  were  very  amus 
ing,  and  are  good  transcripts  of  the  similar  experiences  of 
others.  At  one  place  he  writes  : 

"  The  hotel  where  I  am  staying  is  a  two-storied  shanty  of  unpre 
tending  exterior.  My  home  has  been  the  bar-room,  a  small  apartment, 
twelve  by  fifteen,  in  the  midst  of  which  around  a  stove  have  been 
sitting  a  gloomy  company  toasting  their  cowhide  boots  in  melancholy 
stillness,  and  enlivening  the  occasion  only  by  constant  expectoration 
against  the  unoffending  stove.  No  sound  has  broken  the  stillness 
since  ray  last  vain  attempt  to  organize  a  diversion,  save  the  sputter 
ing  remonstrance  of  the  insulted  stove,  and  I  have  been  generally 
left  to  my  thoughts.  It  will  take  a  large  and  enthusiastic  audience 
and  a  handsome  fee  for  the  intellectual  food  I  have  prepared  for 
them,  to  repay  me  for  what  I  have  thus  far  endured." 

In  the  following  month  of  December  he  seems  to  have 
done  some  shooting  down  in  North  Carolina,  since  we  find 
this  minute  (what  the  Germans  would  call  Jagd  Rapport) 
among  his  papers,  showing  good  sport : 

Thursday,  from  3.30  till  sunset,  2  covies.  H.A.B.,    4;                  B.W.B.,    2                =6 

Friday,  all  day,                             9    "  "         22;                        "7                 =29 

Saturday,                                       7     "  "         30;                         "        15                 =  45 

Monday,  from  11  till  sunset,      7    "  "        17;                        "         7&1  snipe  =  24 

Tuesday,  all  day,                          8    "  "         22  &1  snipe;         "        12                 =34 

•  95  43  138 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1875,  Mr.  Brown  was 
engaged  in  aiding  in  the  formation  of  an  International 
Collegiate  Alumni  Association,  inspired  by  the  Centennial 
Celebration,  of  which  he  was  made  one  of  the  executive 
committee.  We  also  find,  in  addition  to  his  Penn  Monthly 
contributions,  an  article  from  him  in  a  Philadelphia  paper 
upon  the  qualifications  of  civil  magistrates.  Its  stress  is  a 
plea  for  the  adoption  of  the  clause  in  the  conference  bill  of 


QUALIFICATIONS  OF  CIVIL   MAGISTRATES.         97 

the  phrase  "  learned  in  the  law."     The  line  of  argument 
may  be  gathered  from  this  extract : 

11  But  it  is  said  that  young  lawyers,  or  such  members  of  the  bar 
as  will  seek  to  take  these  places,  would  spend  their  time  in  search 
ing  for  legal  points,  in  settling  the  law  and  not  the  case.  This 
seems  to  us  an  unfair  assumption,  and  no  sound  argument  against 
the  lawyer's  eligibility.  These  courts  are  created  for  the  people's 
convenience.  The  more  speedy  the  trial,  the  more  exact  the  admin 
istration  of  justice,  the  better  for  all  parties, — save  the  criminal. 
Now,  the  law  has  certain  rules  by  which  its  business  can  best  be 
managed  and  justice  done.  There  are  rules  of  practice  and  rules 
of  evidence.  They  have  been  suggested  by  wisdom  and  tried  by 
experience.  And  the  lawyer  only  is  familiar  with  them  and  can 
apply  them  safely.  Then,  too,  a  certain  amount  of  education  is 
required  at  the  bar.  The  lawyer  can  always  do  more  than  read 
and  write.  He  must  pass  more  than  one  examination  before  he 
can  enter  his  profession,  and  the  restriction  of  which  we  speak  will 
secure  for  us,  as  magistrates,  men  of  at  least  ordinary  education. 
Then,  too,  we  have  a  control  over  him  which  we  have  not  over  the 
layman.  A  lawyer  is  amenable  to  the  censors  of  the  bar.  He  is  a 
sworn  officer  of  the  courts.  The  one  may  present  him  for  misde 
meanor  ;  the  other  may  throw  him  over  the  bar.  If,  then,  we  were 
to  provide  that  our  new  magistrates  should  be  learned  in  the  law, 
we  would  be  sure,  at  least,  of  men  of  some  education,  of  ordinary 
intelligence  (which  ought  not  to  be  too  much  to  ask),  learned 
enough — riot  to  embarrass  a  question,  perhaps,  but  to  decide  a  claim 
with  promptness  and  according  to  law,  and  sufficiently  familiar  with 
the  rules  of  evidence  and  procedure  to  expedite  the  business  of  their 
offices  and  secure  justice, — over  whom  we  would  have  a  control 
such  as  we  possess  over  no  other  member  of  the  community.  And 
then,  besides  all  this,  by  restricting  these  offices  to  the  comparatively 
few  men  in  this  city  whose  business  in  life  it  is  to  understand  and 
study  their  powers  and  duties,  we  would  elevate  it  in  the  popular 
eye  and  give  the  magistrate  himself  a  higher  dignity.  Restrict  the 
choice  to  members  of  the  bar,  and  you  will  stimulate  among  lawyers 
a  new  and  honorable  ambition.  Undoubtedly  there  are  many  ex 
cellent  men  of  that  profession  to-day  who  would  willingly  take  an 
office,  which  thus  might  be  made  a  professional  one  and  full  of  use- 


98  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

fulness  and  honor,  who  would  not  consent  to  go  into  the  scramble 
with  the  multitude  for  a  share  of  powers,  scattered  among  incom 
petent  and  unworthy  hands." 

Mr.  Brown  interested  himself  in  the  organization  of  a 
"  Social  Art  Club"  in  Philadelphia,  and  also  a  "  Penn 
Monthly  Association/7  to  include  men  of  literary,  scientific, 
and  artistic  taste  in  the  city.  We  must  be  allowed  to  say 
that  Philadelphia  has  a  marvellous  facility  for  organizing 
social  and  literary  clubs,  and  perhaps  that  accounts  for  the 
exceptionally  genial  culture  among  its  professional  men. 
She  fences  herself  in  with  her  own  institutions,  draws  from 
her  own  life,  honors  and  loves  her  leading  men  with  en 
thusiastic  affection,  is  beholden  to  no  other  city  for  her 
intellectual  life.  Philadelphia  swarms  with  these  good 
things,  and  in  some  points  puts  other  cities  to  the  blush  in 
the  fidelity  with  which  she  cherishes  home  talent.  Before 
the  "  Penn  Monthly  Association"  Carl  Schurz  was  invited 
to  lecture  upon  "  Education  Problems."  He  was  intro 
duced  by  Mr.  Brown  in  these  off-hand  words,  "  That  in 
performing  this  act  he  was  introducing  to  them  one  who 
would  have  been  foremost  in  any  Senate  of  the  United 
States  in  any  period  of  American  history,  but  one  who,  in 
the  past  ten  years,  had  shone  with  especial  brilliancy  in 
those  things  which  used  to  be  in  the  past,  ought  to  be  in 
the  present,  and  he  trusted  would  be  in  the  future,  the  only 
titles  to  political  distinction, — great  learning,  great  ability, 
unsullied  character."  The  friendship  with  Mr.  Schurz, 
which  had  been  already  begun  before  this  time,  was  one 
of  those  influences  imperceptibly  drawing  Mr.  Brown  into 
a  broader  field  of  political  life.  Their  correspondence 
shows  the  reliance  Mr.  Schurz  had  upon  his  friend's  judg 
ment,  courage,  and  capacity.  Shortly  after  this,  Mr.  Brown 
joined  with  others  in  giving  a  complimentary  dinner  in 


SPEECH  AT  B  ELMO  NT  MANSION.  99 

New  York  (April  27,  1875)  to  Mr.  Schurz,  at  which  time 
he  made  a  speech.  He  was  also  an  invited  guest  and 
speaker  at  the  celebration  of  the  battle  of  Lexington  in 
the  same  month,  and  shared  the  toils  of  the  journey 
between  Lexington  and  Boston  on  that  highly  interesting 
but  somewhat  confused  occasion. 

In  the  month  of  May  the  merchants  of  Philadelphia 
gave  a  dinner  to  the  merchants  of  New  York  at  Belmont 
Mansion,  in  Fairmount  Park,  on  the  occasion  of  their  visit 
of  inspection  of  the  preparations  for  the  Centennial  Ex 
hibition,  the  Hon.  Morton  McMichael  being  in  the  chair. 
John  Welsh,  Esq.,  introduced  as  the  "father  of  the  Ex 
hibition,"  spoke,  as  did  also  Messrs.  McMichael,  William 
E.  Dodge,  S.  B.  Chittenden,  Henry  A.  Brown,  and  Erastus 
Brooks.  The  playful  opening  of  Mr.  Brown's  speech  put 
the  assembly  in  excellent  good  humor : 

"  MR.  CHAIRMAN, — If  anything  could  increase  the  natural  embar 
rassment  which  I  feel  on  being  thus  called  out  it  would  perhaps  be 
the  reflection  that  my  friend,  Mr.  McMichael,  has  introduced  me  in 
terms  which  I  cannot  hope  to  justify.  And  more  than  that,  he  has 
assigned  no  good  reason  for  having  called  upon  me.  I  find  myself 
on  this,  as  I  have  been  on  other  occasions,  somewhat  in  doubt  about 
my  identity.  I  do  not  think,  frankly,  that  that  is  altogether  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  name  which  I  have  inherited  from  my  fathers  is  far 
less  of  a  designation  than  most  other  names.  I  do  not  know  exactly 
to-day  whom  or  what  I  represent.  I  had  the  honor  once  on  a  very 
solemn  occasion  to  appear  to  some  of  my  audience  in  the  character 
of  the  lion.  Morton  McMichael,  many  times  mayor  of  Philadelphia. 
And  every  now  and  then  I  have  the  privilege  of  addressing  in  the 
country  audiences  of  my  fellow-citizens,  who  cling  persistently  to 
the  belief  that  I  am  the  late  eminent  David  Paul  Brown.  Under 
these  circumstances,  sir,  do  you  wonder  that  I  am  in  doubt  about 
myself?  Is  it  surprising  that  I  remind  myself  of  the  story  of  the 
Dutchman  who  went  down  to  the  hospital  after  Gettysburg  to  find 
his  son  ?  '  Dere  vas  many  tents/  he  said,  '  init  voundets,  und  I  feels 


100  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

very  bad.  I  say  "  Vare  is  mine  sohn?"  und  dey  say  "  In  de  bed  at 
de  ent  of  de  tent."  I  goes  to  de  ent  of  de  tent  und  der  vas  voundets 
all  around ;  und  some  he  got  no  legs  und  some  he  got  no  arms  und 
some  he  got  no  heads, — dere  vas  all  kinds  of  voundets.  I  go  to  de 
bed  und  I  say  "  John,"  und  he  say  k'  Vas."  Und  I  say  "  Stood  up." 
und  he  say  "I  can't  stood  up  because  mine  legs  is  shoot  avay !" 
Und  I  say  "  Come  home  !  come  home!"  und  he  say  "I  can't  come 
home  because  mine  legs  is  shoot  avay !"  Den  I  sit  on  de  bed,  und 
I  say  "  Sit  up!"  und  he  sit  up,  und  I  put  my  arms  around  his  neck 
und  he  put  his  arms  around  my  neck,  und  I  begin  to  cry  und  he 
begin  to  cry,  und  I  looked  into  his  face, — und  it  vasn't  him  !'  Gen 
tlemen,  if  you  hope  for  one-half  of  the  things  Mr.  McMichael's  in 
troduction  may  have  led  you  to  expect  put  your  arms  around  my 
neck  and  look  me  in  the  face :  I  tell  you  I  am  not  the  man." 

We  cannot  now  realize  the  enormous  labor  and  anxiety, 
the  uncertainties,  hopes  and  fears,  which  accompanied  the 
organization  and  the  carrying  out  to  a  successful  termination 
of  the  whole  gigantic  Centennial  enterprise.  Some  few  did 
the  work,  and  some  few  inspired  the  enthusiasm  to  do  it. 
Mr.  Brown  did  both,  and  his  hand,  his  purse,  his  voice, 
were  never  lacking.  He  had  the  pride  of  a  Philadelphia!! 
in  it,  and,  as  his  speeches  always  show,  he  had  the  principle 
of  love  of  country,  seeing  in  this  peculiar  time  as  hardly 
no  other  man  seemed  to  see  it,  the  golden  opportunity  to 
renew  patriotic  ideals,  to  lead  back  the  people  to  original 
sources  of  national  life  and  honor. 

These  were  troublous  times  in  the  Union  League.  This 
noble  association,  which  did  such  admirable  service  during 
the  period  of  the  civil  war,  was  suffering  from  an  inter 
necine  war.  Its  "committee  of  sixty-two,"  as  it  was  called, 
which  had  in  April,  1874,  been  appointed  and  endowed 
with  plenary  powers,  had  by  its  action  awakened  the  sus 
picion  of  some  of  its  Republican  members  upon  the  ground 
of  party  measures.  Acting  under  the  authority  of  resolu- 


ON   THE  NOMINATION   OF   GOV.  HARTRANFT.     1Q1 

tions  passed  by  the  Union  League  itself,  and  especially 
under  the  direction,  "That  the  influence  and  support  of  the 
Union  League  and  its  members  should  and  will  be  given 
only  to  candidates  of  unexceptionable  character,"  on  grounds 
of  public  welfare  and  pure  Republican  principles,  the  com 
mittee  had  lent  their  influence  to  the  Reform  party  in  the 
election  of  city  magistrates  and  other  measures  of  the  Muni 
cipal  Reform  Association,  for  which  action  they  were  called 
to  task  in  a  special  meeting  held  October  14,  1875.  This 
was  a  most  acrimonious  and  violent  meeting,  very  nearly 
breaking  up  in  a  disorderly  scene,  in  which  confusion,  how 
ever,  Mr.  Brown  made  his  voice  heard  in  firm  opposition  to 
the  preceding  motion  that  dodged  the  question,  holding  the 
convention  to  a  decision  upon  the  action  of  the  committee 
of  sixty-two. 

Soon  after  this  a  large  Republican  mass-meeting  took 
place  (October  29)  in  Horticultural  Hall,  for  the  purpose 
of  conferring  upon  political  questions  of  the  hour,  and  es 
pecially  the  nomination  of  General  Hartranft  for  governor 
of  Pennsylvania.  The  two  speakers  were  ex-Governor 
Edward  F.  Noyes  and  Mr.  Brown.  The  remarks  of  the 
last-named  orator,  who  came  out  squarely  upon  the  Repub 
lican  platform,  were  commented  upon  by  one  of  the  leading 
papers  of  Philadelphia  in  these  terms : 

"  The  speech  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown  on  Friday  even 
ing,  advocating  the  election  of  Governor  Hartranft  as  the 
representative  of  hard  money  principles,  was  the  finest  po 
litical  argument  of  the  campaign,  and  it  is  likely  will  have 
a  large  influence  with  those  who,  while  they  deplore  the 
follies  of  the  recent  Republican  administrations, .  fear  to 
trust  their  future  to  a  party  which,  at  the  same  time  that  it 
clamors  for  honest  government,  incorporates  dishonest  prin 
ciples  in  its  platform.  Mr.  Brown  has  been  the  ablest  as 


102  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

well  as  the  most  conscientious  of  our  reformers,  and  his 
action  has,  therefore,  a  special  significance." 

A  touch  of  character  must  not  be  lost,  for  it  is  refreshing 
in  these  pushing  times  to  find  a  modest  man.  The  modern 
Diogenes  ought  to  have  another  pane  to  his  lantern.  A 
letter  had  been  addressed  to  Mr.  Brown  urgently  request 
ing  him  to  add  his  picture  to  the  portraits  of  "  a  hundred 
representative  men  of  Philadelphia"  in  the  way  of  a  memo 
rial.  This  reply  was  among  his  papers : 

"  November  9,  1875. 

"GENTLEMEN, — I  have  received  your  kind  communication  informing 
me  of  your  purpose  to  prepare  for  exhibition  next  year  a  collection 
of  portraits  to  be  entitled  '  One  hundred  representative  men  of 
Philadelphia,'  and  asking  me  to  sit  for  mine.  I  appreciate  the  honor, 
but  cannot  believe  that  I  have  been  able  to  do  anything  which  en 
titles  me  to  a  place  in  such  distinguished  company,  and,  as  your 
number  of  subjects  is  necessarily  limited,  I  ought  to  make  way  for 
some  worthier  person. 

"  You  have  already  honored  me  beyond  my  deserts  by  including 
my  name  among  those  from  which  your  list  was  drawn. 

"  I  am,  gentlemen,  very  truly  yours, 

"  H.  A.  BROWN." 

The  record  of  the  years  1874  and  1875  would  not  be 
complete  without  copious  extracts  from  a  "journal'7  or 
"  note-book"  of  Mr.  Brown's,  which  seems  to  have  been 
kept  during  these  years  only,  and  which,  it  is  to  be  re 
gretted,  was  not  longer  continued.  Sketches  of  interviews 
with  the  great  lawyer,  the  venerable  Horace  Binney,  form 
the  main  subject. 

"  December  30,  1874. — Met  Mr.  Carey  by  appointment  and  went 
with  him  to  see  Mr.  Binney.  Instead  of  going  to  the  front  door  and 
ringing  the  bell,  as  I  expected,  Mr.  Carey  entered  the  little  entrance, 
and,  reaching  the  inner  door,  knocked  sharply  twice.  A  slight 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE- BOOK.  1Q3 

noise,  succeeded  by  unbolting  and  unbarring,  followed,  and  the  door 
was  opened.  Mr.  Binney  himself  stood  before  us.  He  seemed  about 
the  middle  height.  On  his  head  he  wore  a  black  skull-cap,  as  if  to 
conceal  his  baldness.  A  large  folio  lay  open  on  the  table,  and  his 
spectacles  lying  beside  it  showed  what  he  had  been  doing.  Greeting 
Mr.  Carey  pleasantly,  and  shaking  me  by  the  hand  when  introduced, 
he  asked  me  to  sit  down,  and,  having  taken  up  the  big  folio,  walked 
over  to  the  end  of  the  room  and  placed  it  carefully  on  the  lower 
shelf, — then,  returning,  took  a  chair  facing  and  between  us.  After  a 
few  general  words,  Mr.  Carey  spoke  of  the  near  approach  of  his  ninety- 
fifth  birthday.  'Yes,'  said  the  old  man,  'I  shall  be  ninety-five  in  a 
few  days.  I  don't  know  how  it  is  that  I  have  lived  so  long.  It  has 
stolen  on  me  unawares.  Up  at  Cambridge  they  want  to  make  a 
great  deal  of  it,  but  I  tell  them  they  shan't.  I  tell  them  they  shan't 
(repeating  it).  Survivorship  is  the  meanest  thing  in  the  world. 
When  I  was  at  the  bar  I  never  could  make  anything  out  of  a  case 
that  had  nothing  but  that  to  recommend  it.  In  my  case,  the  fact  is, 
— as  I  tell  them  at  Harvard, — I  have  happened  to  outlive — not  every 
body,  thank  God  ! — but  a  great  many  dead  people.'  Mr.  Carey  pres 
ently  began  on  the  Reciprocity  treaty.  Mr.  Binney  heard  him  for 
only  a  moment.  '  Come.'  he  said,  '  now  I  want  to  talk  to  Mr. 
Brown  ; '  and,  moving  his  chair  near  me,  he  asked  something  about 
my  living  in  England.  I  told  him  that  I  was  a  Philadelphian. 
Another  question  followed,  which  led  me  to  say  that  I  was  a  mem 
ber  of  the  bar.  Suddenly  his  face  lighted  up.  '  Oh,  now  I  know 
you,'  he  said.  'I  thought  Mr.  Carey  said  something  about  your 
being  a  stranger.  I  have  read  some  speeches  of  yours.  I  knew 
your  father  well,' — and  so  on  for  some  minutes.  When  we  had 
been  seated  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  there  was  a  pause,  when  he 
drew  out  his  watch,  and,  in  a  very  courtly  tone,  said,  '  You  must 
excuse  me  to-day ;  I  have  an  engagement  to  drive  with  a  lady. 
The  next  time  come  earlier ;'  and,  turning  to  me,  '  I  shall  be  glad  to 
see  you  soon  again.  I  will  let  you  into  the  secret  way  of  getting 
in.  Did  you  notice  the  way  in  which  Mr.  Carey  knocked?  (knock 
ing  with  his  knuckles,  as  he  spoke,  on  the  table).  Well,  come  to 
the  side  door  and  give  that  knock,  and  if  I'm  here  I'll  let  you  in. 
That  was  the  old  Phi  Beta  Kappa  knock  we  used  to  have  in  Cam 
bridge  in  '93.  Come  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.'  With  a  few 
words  like  these  he  ushered  us  out  in  the  most  lordly  manner.  I 


104  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

have  never  seen  an  old  man  who  seemed  so  much  the  master  of  his 
faculties.  I  had  imagined  him  much  feebler  and  more  broken.  In 
repose  his  face  looks  old,  but  when  animated,  in  conversation,  not 
remarkably  so.  His  teeth,  however,  are  gone.  I  shall  call  soon 
again. 

"  February  10,  1875. — Peyton  told  me  in  the  cars  this  morning 
several  interesting  anecdotes  of  Mr.  Clay.  Manner,  he  said,  was 
everything  with  him.  He  related  an  incident  of  his  power  which, 
he  said,  he  himself  witnessed.  Some  unfortunate  gentleman,  while 
sitting  at  table  in  a  hotel  in  Kentucky,  happened  to  look  around 
sharply  at  a  drunken  scion  of  the  first  families  who  came  staggering 
into  the  dining-room.  The  latter  at  once  shot  him  dead.  Clay  de 
fended  the  murderer,  and,  in  the  course  of  his  speech,  declared  that 
the  insults  which  could  be  conveyed  by  a  look  were  sometimes  more 
terrible  than  either  words  or  a  blow,  accompanying  this  with  an 
expression  of  face  so  insulting  that  the  jury  winced  at  it  and  soon 
afterwards  acquitted  his  client,  Peyton  believes,  simply  on  account 
of  the  impression  this  conveyed. 

"  On  my  arrival  at  the  office  I  took  advantage  of  the  hour,  and 
the  fact  that  nothing  pressed,  to  call  again  on  Mr.  Binney.  On 
knocking  with  two  raps  at  his  office-door  it  was  opened,  and,  to  my 
surprise,  he  recognized  me  at  once.  He  wore  as  usual  his  velvet 
cap,  which  hides  the  top  of  his  forehead.  He  drew  a  chair  before 
the  fire  and  bade  me  do  the  same.  A  glance  at  the  table  showed 
me  that  he  had  been  reading  John  Quincy  Adams's  Memoirs.  I 
began  to  speak  of  them,  when  he  started  off  at  once.  'Adams,'  he 
said,  '  was  in  Congress  with  him  in  :33  and  '35, — an  admirable  man, 
— I  confess  I  have  never  quite  made  up  my  mind  on  the  question  of 
the  bargain  charged  as  made  between  him  and  Mr.  Clay,  though  I 
think  the  friends  of  both  parties  must  have  had  an  understanding.' 
He  contrasted — with  some  degree  of  earnestness — Adams's  refusal  to 
appoint  a  relative  to  office,  even  at  the  request  of  the  President,  with 
the  practice  of  great  men  of  to-day.  He  spoke  of  the  change  for  the 
worse  in  public  men, — mentally  and  morally.  '  When  I  was  in  Con 
gress  there  were  many  men  of  ability  and  honor  in  public  life,  but 
the  bad  ones  were  getting  the  ascendency  very  rapidly,  and  it  has 
been  growing  worse  ever  since.'  I  said  I  thought  that  General 
Jackson  had  done  much  to  debase  politics.  '  Yes,'  he  replied,  '  un 
doubtedly.'  To  my  question  whether  he  knew  the  general  (which 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  1Q5 

was  a  very  foolish  one  to  make)  he  answered,  '  Oh,  yes ;  did  you 
ever  see  him?'  I  replied,  quickly, '  Oh.  no,  sir,  he  died  before  I  was 
born ;'  and  was  sorry  I  had  made  the  remark,  for  a  shadow  passed 
over  the  old  man's  face  as  he  seemed  to  be  reminded  of  the  difference 
of  sixty  years  between  us,  and  said,  half  to  himself,  '  Very  likely, 
very  likely.'  He  then  went  on  to  tell  me  with  much  animation  that 
the  day  after  he  closed  a  two  or  three  days'  speech  against  the  re 
moval  of  the  deposits,  he  received  an  invitation  to  dine  at  the  Presi 
dent's.  '  Of  course  I  went.  He  put  me  on  his  right  hand  at  the 
table,  and  kept  me  by  him  all  the  evening ;  he  told  me  much  about 
his  personal  history.  His  early  education  had  been  very  defective, — 
he  had  to  ride  a  long  way  to  school  and  take  his  dinner  with  him, — 
and  the  teaching  was  of  the  rudest  kind.  I  was  curious  to  know 
why  he  paid  me  these  especial  attentions.  I  learned  that  he  had 
sent  his  nephew,  Donelson,  down  to  the  House  to  hear  my  speech, 
and  report  to  him.  When  he  went  back  the  general  said,  "  Well, 
what  does  he  say?"  "He  is  pretty  hard  on  you,"  said  Donelson, 
"  and  pitches  into  you  severely  ;  but  it's  the  speech  of  a  gentleman  ; 
he  treats  you  like  a  gentleman."  And  so  the  old  man  at  once  invited 
me  to  dinner.'  Mr.  Binney  told  the  story  with  evident  pleasure. 
'  Clay,'  he  said,  '  was  a  delightful  man  to  talk  with  and  hear  speak. 
He  had  a  fine  voice  and  manner,  but  his  speeches  did  not  read  well. 
Webster,  on  the  other  hand,  sounded  sometimes  dull,  but  the  next 
day  what  he  had  said  seemed  excellent  in  print.  He  had  extraordi 
nary  power.  I  have  heard  him  sometimes  when  he  seemed  to  lift 
me  up  to  my  tiptoes.  He  was  not  a  great  lawyer.  He  had  not 
thorough  training  or  deep  learning,  but  in  the  argument  of  consti 
tutional  questions  he  had  no  superior.'  I  spoke  of  the  Girard  will 
case  as  one  in  which  he  had  not  sustained  his  reputation.  '  He  had 
the  law  against  him,'  was  the  reply;  'and,  besides  that,  he  didn't 
understand  the  law  in  that  case.  Had  he  done  so  he  would  have 
been  in  a  far  worse  position  than  he  was.'  But  in  the  Dartmouth 
College  case, — 'Ah,  there  he  had  the  law  with  him.'  I  spoke  of 
Webster  as  being  the  best  model  among  American  authors,  though 
not  to  be  mentioned  with  Burke.  The  latter's  range  was  so  much 
greater,  etc.  We  talked  of  this  a  little  and  then  of  Webster's  char 
acter,  but  he  came  back  to  him  as  a  lawyer.  '  In  constitutional 
questions,'  he  repeated,  'he  was  unequalled.  I  have  always  said 
that  he  was  superior  even  to  C.  J.  Marshall,  and  you  know  I  heard 

8 


106  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  A R MITT  BROWN. 

his  speech  in  the  Jonathan  Bobbins  case  when  I  was  a  law 
student.'  Indeed,  I  said,  at  Sixth  and  Chestnut,  in  March,  1800! 
'  Marshall  and  Webster,'  he  went  on,  '  were,  of  course,  very  different. 
The  former  seemed  to  make  link  after  link,  until  he  had  joined  two 
points  with  a  perfect  chain.  His  logic  was  wonderful.  But  Web 
ster  seemed  to  strike  a  succession  of  ponderous  blows.  He  bore 
down  everything;  before  him  by  his  weight.'  I  spoke  of  Everett.  'A 
very  remarkable  man,'  Mr.  Binney  said.  '  His  industry  was  ex 
traordinary.  He  sat  next  me  in  Congress.  One  day  he  called  at 
my  lodgings  and  asked  me  if  he  might  read  to  me  a  report  which 
he  had  prepared  on  a  question  which  was  purely  legal.  I  have  for 
gotten  the  subject,  but  I  remember  that  it  involved  several  difficult 
points  of  law.  It  took  him  three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  read,  and 
when  he  had  done  I  told  him  that  I  had  no. comment  to  make  ;  that 
he  had  correctly  stated  the  law  and  quoted  the  authorities,  and  that 
I  had  no  comment  to  make  upon  his  labors.  And  yet  he  was  a  man 
who  had  never  studied  law.'  In  illustration  of  a  remark  called 
forth  by  something  I  said  about  party  discipline  and  the  narrowness 
of  party  spirit,  the  old  man  then  told  me,  as  he  said,  '  a  remarkable 
circumstance.'  'When  Tom  Benton  brought  in  his  bill  to  debase 
the  gold  coin  to  keep  it  from  flowing  to  Europe,  and  supported  an 
elaborate  scheme  based  upon  that  idea,  I  examined  the  matter  with 
some  care,  and  was  clear  that  it  violated  some  truths  of  history  and 
finance,  but  I  hardly  expected  to  speak,  until  J.  Q.  Adams  came  to 
my  seat  one  day  and  said,  *'  Mr.  Binney,  are  you  not  going  to  speak 
on  this  subject?"  I  replied  that  I  thought  speaking  would  do  no 
good,  but  the  next  day,  I  think  it  was,  I  took  the  floor.  The  House 
was  not  more  than  a  third  full  at  the  time,  but  they  listened  to 
me  with  great  attention  in  a  speech  of  perhaps  an  hour  and  a  half. 
When  I  had  done  a  gentleman  took  the  floor  to  speak  on  the  same 
side.  The  House  suddenly  filled  as  if  by  magic.  Every  member 
was  soon  in  his  seat,  when  they  commenced  such  coughing  and 
scraping  of  feet  that  the  member  could  not  go  on.  Then  they  called 
for  a  vote,  and  passed  the  measure  without  a  pause.  Here  was  an 
organic  conspiracy  to  carry  through  this  party  measure  without 
reference  to  argument  or  the  honor  of  the  country.  It  made  an  im 
pression  on  me  at  the  time,  and  showed  how  thorough  party  train 
ing  had  even  then  become.'  Further  talk  about  Mr.  Webster  led 
Mr.  Binney  to  speak  of  Jeremiah  Mason,  '  one  of  the  greatest  law- 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  1Q7 

yers  and  greatest  men  this  country  has  produced.'  '  He  was  a  giant 
in  size,  and,  by  the  way,  the  chief  justice  of  Massachusetts  was  here 
to  see  me  the  other  day, — an  enormous  man,  too ;  nearly  as  tall  as 
Mr.  Mason, — Mr.  Gray.'  He  asked  me  if  I  had  read  his  (Mason's) 
Memoir  and  Correspondence,  prepared  by  Mr.  Hillard,  of  Boston.  I 
had  not.  With  that  the  old  gentleman  rose  and  searched  for  a 
moment  in  one  of  his  bookcases,  but  could  not  find  the  volume, 
giving  it  up  at  length  with  the  remark  that  his  daughter  arranged 
his  books  when  they  got  in  disorder,  and  that  he  would  send  it  to 
me.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  received  an  invitation  to  go  to  the  cele 
bration  which  they  are  to  have  at  Lexington  on  the  one  hundredth 
anniversary  of  the  fight.  I  answered  that  I  had,  and  hoped  to  go. 
' 1  am  too  old  for  such  journeys  now,'  he  said.  'At  ninety-five  and 
over  I  cannot  go  so  far  from  home.  I  don't  know  how  it  is  that  I 
have  lived  so  long.  It  has  stolen  upon  me  unawares.'  He  then 
told  me  of  his  passing  a  year — from  1792  to  1793 — at  a  place  now 
called  West  Cambridge,  waiting  to  grow  old  enough  to  enter  college. 
There  was  a  pond  there  called  Menotomy.  Years  afterwards  he 
went  with  Mrs.  Binney,  who  wanted  to  see  the  place,  but  couldn't 
find  it.  More  than  forty  years  after  'his  residence  there  he  tried 
again,  and,  driving  out  from  Boston,  found  that  he  could  direct  the 
coachman  how  to  go,  and  at  last  found  'Menotomy  Pond.'  But  it 
was  then  called  '  Spy  Pond,'  and  he  could  find  no  man,  woman,  or 
child  who  had  ever  heard  the  old  Indian  name  which  he  had  spoken 
and  heard  a  hundred  thousand  times.*  •  Tell  them  this  story,  and 
say  that  they  do  wrong  to  change  the  names  of  their  towns  and 
villages.  The  Indian  names  are  beautiful  and  ought  to  be  pre 
served.'  I  mentioned  the  wicked  change  in  the  Adirondack  Moun 
tains,  of  the  tallest  peak  from  '  Tahawus,'  '  cloud-splitter,'  to-'  Mount 
Marcy.'  The  old  man  laughed  and  said,  '  The  Secretary  was  not 
much  of  a  cloud-splitter.'  After  more  than  an  hour's  talk  I  took 
my  leave.  The  interview  was  most  interesting  in  every  respect. 
There  is  nothing  to  indicate  great  age  in  Mr.  Binney  but  the  loss 
of  teeth,  which  often  makes  his  words  a  little  indistinct.  He  is 

*  This  is  like  the  story  which  is  told  of  another  great  lawyer,  Alexander 
Wedderburn,  who  was  Lord  Chancellor  of  England  in  1793.  When  an  old 
man  he  went  to  Edinburgh  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  "  Mint  Close,"  where 
he  used  "to  play  at  the  bools"  as  a  boy,  and  to  see  if  it  was  still  just  as  he 
left  it  sixty  years  before. 


108  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

neither  blind  nor  deaf,  and  every  faculty  seems  unimpaired.  He 
stoops  considerably,  but  his  eye — a  deep  blue — is  still  bright,  and 
does  not  look  like  that  of  a  man  of  sixty.  In  everything  he  says 
you  notice  the  man  of  power.  His  language  is  always  correct  and 
beautiful. 

"  February  19,  1875. — I  talked  with  Dr.  Allibone  at  some  length. 
He  thinks  very  highly  of  Everett,  and  also  of  Webster,  but  denounces, 
with  perhaps  justifiable  warmth,  the  attempts  to  compare  the  latter 
with  Burke.  Dr.  Allibone  said  some  very  kind  things  of  my  speeches 
which  were  gratifying,  but  ought  not  to  be  written  down,  at  least 
by  me.  I  can  hardly  bring  myself  to  believe  them :  I  am  certain  it 
would  not  be  honest  to  have  them  even  set  down. 

"March ft,  1875. — At  the  'Junior  Legal  Club'  this  evening,  Judge 

and were  talking  of  the  timidity  and  nervousness  which 

men  feel  in  court.  said,  to  the  judge's  evident  surprise,  that 

he  had  never  quite  recovered  from  the  feeling.  agreed  with  us 

that  it  was  a  matter  of  temperament.  Another  of  the  company  quoted 
to  me  a  remark  which  I  made  at  the  meeting  at  the  Penn  Monthly 
room  on  Thursday,  in  my  first  speech.  I  was  speaking  of  the  pro 
posed  club  and  of  that  scheme  for  a  '  Century  Club'  which and 

Dr. had  in  charge.  The  danger,  I  said,  is  that  they  start 

at  the  wrong  end.  They  have  too  elaborate  ideas,  and  make  the  great 
mistake  of  trying  to  make  the  Century  plant  bloom  at  the  begin 
ning  instead  of  at  the  end  of  a  hundred  years.  As  he  recalled  it  I 
remember  how  much  it  seemed  to  strike  the  men  as  I  let  it  fall,  for 
that,  after  all,  is  the  danger  we  generally  encounter,  and  nearly  always 
with  fatal  results,  in  the  formation  of  these  clubs.  Men  are  not  con 
tent  to  wait,  while  such  things  should  always  be  in  great  measure  a 
growth.  I  think  that  the  '  Penn  Club'  will  succeed  because  it  will 
start  modestly,  and  money  will  be  out  of  the  question.  I  doubt  the 
success  of  the  '  Social  Art,'  as  I  did  that  of  the  now  defunct  '  ^Esthe 
tic.'  Some  one  recalled  to  my  mind 's  joke  about  the  new  House 

of  Correction.  He  was  passing  in  the  cars  the  huge  building,  when 
a  man  near  him  asked,  '  Is  that  a  distillery  ?'  '  Oh,  no,'  was  the  an 
swer,  '  It's  a  rectifying  establishment.' 

"  March  7,  1875. — Went  to  the  Continental  to-day  at  one  o'clock, 
though  it  was  snowing  heavily,  and  passed  an  hour  or  more  with 
.  He  talked  very  freely  and  as  strongly  as  I  have  talked,  hav 
ing  apparently  come  entirely  around  to  my  way  of  thinking.  He 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  1Q9 

said  that  the  Republicans  would  undoubtedly  renominate  Hartranft, 
perhaps  unanimously.  I  said  that  his  administration  had,  on  the 
whole,  been  satisfactory.  He  didn't  think  that  anything  could  be 
done,  and  added  that  we  must  all  sit  down  and  wait.  ;  Your  posi 
tion,'  he  said,  'is  perfectly  understood,  and  couldn't  be  better.  I 
shall  make  my  independence  known.  I  thought  last  winter,  in  the 
McClure  fight,  that  you  were  wrong,  but  I  think  now  you  did  just 
right.  Your  course  has  been  consistent  and  bold  5  all  you  have  to 
do  is  to  keep  quiet.  But  I  will  take  an  opportunity  to  speak  or  write 
about  these  tests,  that  are  not  tests  of  Republicanism,  that  will  leave 
no  doubt  about  my  views  with  regard  to  them.'  I  remembered  as 
he  said  this  our  former  conversations,  when  he  thought  that  I  was 
all  wrong  and  going  astray,  and  the  letter  he  wrote  last  winter  to 

urging  him  to  save  me  from  perdition, — that  perdition  which  he 

sees  now  is  the  way  to  security  and  a  strong  position.     was 

the  first  to  come  over  to  me,  now .     Both  of  them  two  years 

and  less  ago  the  strongest  administration  men.     As  I  said  to ,  I 

feel  and  think  as  I  did  two  years  ago,  and  men  like  me  are  strength 
ening  in  our  independence  every  day,  while  men  like  you  are  weak 
ening  daily  in  your  party  loyalty.  I  think,  perhaps,  that  he  is  right, 
and  that  nothing  can  be  done  this  fall  to  better  things, — because  the 
men  who  could  are  timid,  or  half  convinced,  or  doubtful  of  their 
strength.  But  the  change  will  surely  come. 

"March  15,  1875.— J.  -  — ,  of  Kentucky,  lectured  at  the 
Academy  to-night.  Pugh  sent  me  a  stage-ticket,  and  I  found  a  seat 
between  Richard  Va'ux  and  Samuel  Dickson.  The  lecture  was  in 
many  respects  better  than  I  had  expected,  being  full  of  satirical  points 
and  many  fine  passages.  has  the  common  fault  of  the  West 
ern  speaker,  of  dropping  his  voice  at  the  close  of  a  sentence.  The 
majority  of  the  best  things  were  thus  lost  to  the  audience  and  fell 
flat.  He  said  that  men  were  holding  high  and  responsible  positions 
who  were  no  better  able  to  discharge  their  duties  '  than  a  gorilla 
would  be  to  vindicate  his  race  from  the  Darwinian  theory.'  After 
the  lecture  we  sat  down,  to  the  number  of  twenty-five  or  thirty,  to 
supper  at  the  Reform  Club.  is  quiet,  genial,  and  apprecia 
tive.  Story-telling  and  good  things  kept  us  all  amused  until  twelve, 
or  nearly  that,  when,  to  my  disgust,  speech-making  was  begun.  We 
all  had  to  speak  in  turn,  and  one  or  two  did  not  see  the  necessity  of 
doing  their  part  conversationally.  in  particular  was  oratorical 


HO  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

to  a  degree  which,  in  a  small  company,  is  trying  enough.  was 

amusing  and  mimicked  others,  to  's  evident  delight. 

"  March  16,  1875.— Dined  with  .  We  had  much  talk  of  a 

political  turn.  believes  that  Grant  will  secure  the  Republican 

nomination  without  a  doubt.  He  thinks  that  Kerr,  of  Indiana, 
would  be  the  candidate  for  the  Democrats.  He  told  us  many  good 
stories,  especially  of  the  South-Western  politicians,  many  of  which, 

though  rough,  I  enjoyed  greatly.  Walked  home  with  him  and . 

I  like ,  who  strikes  me  as  a  kindly-tempered  man  and  one  of 

culture.  He  told  an  amusing  story  of  General ,  a  local  celebrity 

in  his  State.  The  general  was  running  for  office,  and  his  opponents 

determined  to  beat  him.  Among  others  they  engaged  Mr.  W , 

a  lawyer  and  famous  orator,  to  speak  against  him.  W made  a 

great  speech  before  an  immense  audience,  and  when  he  sat  down 
the  general  saw  that  unless  something  was  done  at  once  to  counter 
act  its  effects  his  fate  was  sealed.  He  rose  slowly,  and  said,  '  My 
friends,  you  know  me  well.  You  have  known  me  long.  I  have 
lived  here  right  among  you  ever  since  I  was  a  boy.  It  may  be  I 
have  many  failings,  and  you  know  'em  all.  Everything  that  this 
gentleman  has  said  of  me  may  be  true,  and  if  you  choose  to  believe 
him  you  must  think  tolerable  mean  of  me.  But  this,  I  say,  my 
fellow-citizens,  I  never  done, — I  never  embezzled  my  client's  money  ; 
I  never  forged  a  check  for  sixty-four  dollars  and  seventy-two  cents; 

I  never  ruined  my  friend's  sifter.1  Up  jumped  W in  a  fury. 

'  Sit  down,  sir!'  said  the  general.  *  I  say  again,  my  fellow-citizens, 
I  never  embezzled  my  client's  money ;  I  never  forged  a  check  for 
sixty-four  dollars  and  seventy-two  cents;  I  never  ruined  my  friend's 
sister.'  'Do  you  mean  to  accuse  me  of  these  crimes?'  broke  in 

W again,  beside  himself  with  rage.  '  I  say,'  went  on  the  old 

general,  and  he  repeated  the  three  offences  with  great  deliberation, 
'  that  I  never  done  them  things  /'  The  meeting  broke  up  in  the 

midst  of  great  excitement.  A  challenge  from  W was  at  once 

accepted  by  the  general ;  but,  of  course,  the  duel  could  not  take  place 
till  after  the  election.  The  general  was  triumphantly  returned,  and 

then  sent  a  humble  apology  to  W for  his  '  mistake,'  and  was 

never  weary  of  protesting  that  if  he  could  only  lay  his  hands  on  the 
i  feller'  who  told  him  '  them  lies,'  he  would  flay  him  alive. 

"April  30,  1875. — Samuel  Hollingsworth  entertained  the  'Junior 
Legal  Club.'  Had  a  very  pleasant  talk  with  Judge  Mitchell  and 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  HI 

David  W.  Sellers.  The  latter  told  of  his  remembrances  of  J.  R. 
Ingersoll  and  others  of  the  old  bar,  of  the  courtesy,  dignity,  and 
attention  to  details  of  the  leaders. 

'"June  7,  1875. — Called  this  morning  on  Mr.  Binney.  He  was  in 
his  back  office,  the  window  of  the  front  one,  and  indeed  of  the 
whole  house,  being  closed  tightly,  because,  as  he  said,  l  they  were 
putting  in  coal.'  The  back  office  is  a  large,  pleasant  room,  with 
straw  matting  on  the  floor,  and  two  large  windows  opening  out 
upon  a  broad  garden  full  of  trees  and  flowers.  Mr.  Binney  wore 
his  little  cap,  as  usual,  and  seemed  to  me  at  first  rather  feeble  for 
him,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  less  vigorous  than  usual.  He  had 
been  reading  the  Spectator,  and  told  me,  with  some  animation,  of 
the  'extraordinary  spectacle,'  mentioned  in  the  last  number,  of  the 
people  crowding  out  to  the  Alexandra  Palace  during  the  Whitsun 
holidays  in  such  numbers  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  move  the  rail 
way  trains,  and  compelled  more  than  twenty  thousand  to  pass  the 
night  out-of-doors.  I  told  him  of  the  experiences  I  had  had  at 
Lexington,  where  the  crowd  was  so  great,  and  of  the  strange  scene 
at  the  depot.  This  led  him  to  speak  to  me  again  of  the  year  he  spent 
in  that  neighborhood,  at  West  Cambridge,  or  Menotomy.  I  turned 
the  subject  presently  upon  Mr.  Adams's  Memoirs,  the  sixth  volume 
of  which  he  had  just  commenced,  and  remarked  that  I  thought  it 
strange  that  so  able  and  learned  a  man  as  Mr.  Adams,  living  in  the 
period  in  which  he  filled  so  large  a  place,  had  taken  no  part  in  the 
discussion  of  the  great  constitutional  questions  which  arose.  He 
seemed  to  have  contributed  nothing  to  constitutional  law.  Mr. 
Binney  replied  that  'the  reason  was  that  Mr.  Adams  did  not  take 
naturally  to  legal  questions,  and  was  not  a  well-read  lawyer.  He 
practised  a  little  in  Boston,  but  not  much,  and  he  did  not  feel  much 
interest  in,  or  enthusiasm  for,  the  law.  But  he  had  a  natural  gift 
for  politics  and  government,  and  they  had  the  wisdom  in  Massa 
chusetts  to  perceive  this  political  capacity  very  early,  and  to  send 
him  to  the  Senate.  He  acquired  in  time  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
European  and  American  affairs,  and  in  some  things  he  was  the 
fullest-minded  man  I  ever  knew.  But  he  was  no  lawyer.  When 
Mr.  Cheves  was  president  of  the  bank  (of  the  United  States),  the 
question  arose  as  to  the  duty  of  the  bank  to  redeem  the  notes  of 
various  States  in  government  notes  at  Philadelphia,  and  Mr.  Cheves, 
who  was  not  much  of  a  banker  and  stayed  here  but  a  short  time, — 


112  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

but  a  very  estimable  gentleman, — came  to  me  for  an  opinion.  I 
gave  him  one,  and  said  that  the  bank  had  to  do  it,  and  pointed  out 
that  the  arrangement  as  made  by  General  Hamilton  was  one  mutu 
ally  advantageous  for  the  bank  and  for  the  government.  He  was 
not  satisfied,  and  Mr.  Adams  insisted  that  the  opposite  view  must 
be  correct.  Together  they  got  an  opinion  from  Mr.  Pinckney,  in 
which  he  agreed  with  me.  I  think  they  got  six  opinions  and  all 
the  same  way.  Even  then  Mr.  Adams  said  he  supposed  it  must  be 
the  law,  as  it  was  so  stated  by  gentlemen, — about  whom  he  made 
some  complimentary  remark, — but  he  couldn't  be  satisfied.  I  re 
member,  too,  another  instance  of  his  stubbornness.  Mr. ,  whom 

you  don't  remember,  was  a  China  merchant.  He  imported  immense 
quantities  of  tea,  and  under  the  bonding  law  as  then  existing  he 
had  it  placed  in  the  storehouses,  and  whenever  he  pleased  he  could 
take  out  as  much  as  was  necessary  and  bond  it.  Well,  he  made  an 
arrangement  with  the  keeper  of  the  storehouses,  and  took  out  great 
quantities  without  putting  it  in  bond  at  all ;  for  then,  too,  as  has 
been  more  frequently  the  case  in  later  years,  it  was  a  question  of 
"who  should  watch  the  keeper."  Of  course  this  was  all  discovered. 
He  had  borrowed  largely  in  New  York,  and  given  as  security  the 
bills  of  lading,  etc.,  of  cargoes  that  were  coming  to  this  port.  Mr. 
Adams  had  the  ships  libelled  at  once  on  arrival  here  as  property, 
and  I  was  engaged  by  the  insurance  companies,  the  holders  of  the 
bills  of  lading.  The  law  was  clear,  of  course,  but  Mr.  Adams  in 
sisted  on  his  view,  and  sent  Mr.  Wirt  up  to  fight  me.  I  did  not 
mind  Mr.  Wirt  much,  because  I  had  the  law  with  me;  but  he  made 
a  fine  argument,  and  I  won  the  case.  So  little  did  Mr.  Adams  know 
of  commercial  law  that  he  insisted  on  taking  the  case  up  to  the 
Supreme  Court.  I  argued  it  there  against  Mr.  Wirt  again,  and, 
nemini  contradiciente,  the  court  held  in  my  favor.  So  the  govern 
ment  was  put  to  all  that  expense  by  Mr.  Adams's  obstinacy  and 
ignorance  of  the  law.'  Mr.  Binney  then  told  me  of  the  suit  which 

he  conducted  as  the  counsel  of against for  slander.     

had  alleged  that  .  as  consul  at  St.  Petersburg,  had  knowingly 

admitted  English  goods  as  American.  Mr.  Binney  was  opposed  to 
J.  R.  Ingersoll.  and  John  Quincy  Adams  was  a  witness.  'I  sus 
pected,'  he  said,  'that  he  had  prepared  himself  the  questions  that 
were  to  be  put  to  him,  and  I  asked  him  this  question  directly  on 
cross-examination,  and  he  could  not  deny  it.' 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  H3 

11  He  then  spoke  of  the  Memoirs  again,  and  said  l  no  one  could 
read  the  opinion  which  Mr.  Adams  set  down  in  his  journal  of  Mr. 
Clay,  and  then  notice  the  l.atter's  appointment  as  Secretary  of  State 
and  the  silence  about  it,  without  the  conviction  that  there  had  been 
a  compromise, — not  by  Mr.  Adams,  but  arranged  and  managed  by 
his  friends.  Again,'  said  he.  'Adams  was  in  some  things  a  narrow 
man  and  an  unforgiving.  He  was  honest  always,  but  full  of  preju 
dices.'  I  asked  Mr.  Binney  if  he  had  known  Mr.  Pinckney.  He 
answered,  never ;  he  had  never  seen  him.  But  he  was  a  man  of 
gre.it  power,  undoubtedly.  He  then  went  on  and  told  me  of  a  case 
in  which  Mr.  Pinckney  had  defended  a  ship  that  was  brought  in  as 
a  prize, — the  first  case  of  the  kind,  and  the  principles  of  maritime 
and  prize  law  were  new  to  us  then  and  the  questions  that  arose 
unsettled.  I  won  the  case  here,  and  it  went  to  Washington.  I  won 
it  also.  I  remember,  at  the  Circuit  Court  before  Judge  Bush  rod 
Washington.  For  some  reason  I  did  not  go  to  argue  it  in  the 
Supreme  Court;  I  don't  remember  why.  Mr.  Pinckney  was  en 
gaged  on  the  other  side  and  made  a  great  argument,  and  she  was 
condemned.  Judge  Washington  dissented,  but  gave  no  opinion ; 
but  he  spoke  to  me  afterwards  of  the  matter,  and  said  I  ought  to 
have  gone  down,  that  Mr.  Pinckney's  argument  had  carried  the 
court.'  He  (Mr.  Binney)  alluded  to  the  stories  about  Pinckney's 
affectations  of  dress  and  manner.  '  I  believe  he  was  a  good  deal  of 
a  coxcomb.'  We  then  talked  of  the  old  bar,  and  he  spoke  of  Tilgh- 
man,  Lewis,  and  the  elder  Ingersoll.  'The  first,'  said  he,  'was  an 
accomplished,  thorough  lawyer, — a  remarkable  man.  The  second, 
Lewis,  a  great  rough  man,  with  a  rough  education,  who  became 
finally  a  thoroughly  educated  man  by  his  own  exertions.  In  the 
higher  capital  cases  he  was  very  powerful.  Mr.  Ingersoll  was  in 
some  things  the  most  singular  man  I  ever  knew.  When  unexcited 
his  mind  was  slow  to  wrork,  and  if  left  to  himself  he  would  work 
out  his  arguments  very  imperfectly,  and  often  made  mistakes,  appa 
rently  showing  much  less  knowledge  of  the  law  than  he  possessed  ; 
but  in  the  excitement  of  a  trial  or  argument,  when  once  aroused, 
his  mind  was  keen  and  powerful,  and  his  knowledge  seemed  to  come 
out.  His  mind  was  like  a  sensitive  paper  written  over  with  a 
chemical  preparation  that  required  to  be  heated  before  the  char 
acters  would  come  out  clearly.'  The  old  gentleman  continued  to 
talk  most  delightfully  of  the  leaders  of  the  old  bar.  I  spoke  of  Mr. 


114  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

Sergeant.  '  Ah,'  he  said,  *  he  was  a  good  fellow.  The  trouble  with 
him  was  that  he  wouldn't  prepare  himself  properly.  But  he  had 
great  readiness,  and  while  he  spoke  thought  out  his  case.  He 
would  ravel  out  his  adversary's  case  and  knit  up  his  own  while  he 
was  speaking.'  I  spoke  of  the  change  in  the  bar  and  the  want  of 
ambition  among  its  members  to  become  accomplished  lawyers  in 
the  highest  sense.  I  said  I  knew  of  but  few  men  of  my  time  who 
seemed  to  me  to  have  a  very  high  ambition.  Mr.  Binney  continued  : 
'  I  am  so  much  retired,  and  see  so  little  of  the  world  in  my  privacy 
here,  that  there  are  many  things  which  I  do  not  see  in  which  I 
would  take  interest.  Doubtless  you  .are  right,  and  the  bar  has 
degenerated.  All  that  I  have  seen  and  heard  confirms  your  opinion. 
But  you  must  remember  that  the  times  have  changed,  for  Phila 
delphia,  up  to  1806  and  even  much  later,  was  the  commercial 
metropolis  of  the  country.  All  the  underwriting  was  done  here ; 
the  great  cases  arose  here  or  came  here  for  settlement.  It  is  not  so 
now.  We  have  necessarily  grown  provincial  ;  and  with  the  decline 
in  the  relative  importance  of  the  cases  which  it  tries,  the  bar  has 
fallen  off.  But,'  he  went  on  with  much  animation,  '  remember  that 
the  more  commonplace  the  bar,  the  better  is  the  chance  for  ability 
and  industry ;  for  there  is  always  work  enough  in  Philadelphia, 
and  important  work  too.  If  the  general  run  of  lawyers  do  not 
strive  for  the  first  places  there  must  be  all  the  more  room  in  the 
front  rank.  Cherish  an  honorable  ambition.  Be  strict  in  attending 
to  your  business.  Prepare  yourself  with  care.  Be  industrious  and 
study  hard,  and  resolve,  no  matter  what  the  temptation  may  be, 
never  to  do  an  unworthy  action  or  take  a  mean  advantage,  and  by 
all  means' — here  he  leaned  forward  and  placed  his  hand  upon  my 
knee — t  cultivate  your  talent  for  public  speaking ;  then,  take  my 
word  for  it,  the  reward  will  come.'  Continuing  in  this  strain,  he 
spoke  next  of  the  changes  in  the  condition  and  prestige  of  the 
bench.  '  To  think  that  there  should  be  chief  justices  of  Pennsyl 
vania  by  the  score !  But  we  mustn't  slander  any  one  ;  there  are  some 
excellent  gentlemen  among  them.'  I  asked  him  '  if  he  did  not 
attribute  the  decadence  of  the  judiciary  to  the  elective  system?'  He 
said,  '  No ;  I  don't  think  that  to  return  to  the  appointive  system 
would  entirely  cure  the  trouble.  Governors  are  partisans  and  are 
apt  to  appoint  partisans,  and,  on  the  whole,  I  think  the  people  may 
be  trusted  to  choose  men  as  fit  as  those  whom  governors  would 


EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  H5 

select;  but  the  office  should  be  held  for  life  during  good  behavior, — 
that  would  make  the  incumbent  independent  of  all  political  influence 
for  a  re-election.  When  the  late  convention  met  I  urged  these  views 
upon  several  gentlemen  without  avail.  But  to  make  our  judges 
dependent  every  few  years  on  the  favor  or  fancy  of  political  con 
ventions  is  all  wrong.  Too  much  cannot  be  said  against  it.'  After 
a  two  hours'  interview  I  rose  to  go.  He  shook  me  very  warmly  by 
the  hand  and  said  I  must  come  again  soon.  I  said  I  might  go  to 
Europe,  and  in  that  case  would  call  again  before  the  end  of  June. 
With  this  I  took  my  leave.  The  impressions  made  on  me  by  pre 
vious  interviews  were  deepened  by  this.  •  It  seems  quite  impossible, 
as  you  hear  Mr.  Binney  talk  and  watch  the  changing  expression  of 
his  intellectual  face,  that  he  is  within  five  years  of  being  a  hundred 
years  old.  His  voice  is  not  weak,  and  were  it  not  for  the  loss  of 
teeth  would  not  sound  like  that  of  a  very  aged  man.  His  eye  is 
bright.  When  I  came  in  and  he  saw  me,  it  kindled  with  a  pleasant 
light  of  recognition  as  many  a  much  younger  man's  might  not  have' 
done,  no  matter  how  friendly  his  feelings  to  me.  He  is  not  deaf. 
The  instant  I  knocked  at  the  door  I  heard  his  prompt  '  come  in.' 
He  stoops  very  much,  but  it  is  rather  the  stoop  of  a  scholarly  habit 
than  of  age.  The  most  remarkable  thing  about  him  is  his  conver 
sational  power. — if  I  pass  by  the  extraordinary  memory  which  shows 
itself  in  all  he  says,— for  he  remembers  everything  (even  the  name, 
to-day,  of  the  vessel  which  he  defended, — the  first  prize  brought  in 
in  the  war  of  1812,  and  which  I  have  forgotten  already).  In  what 
I  have  written  of  his  conversation  I  have  tried  to  recall  his  words, 
but  I  have  been  able  to  do  so  very  imperfectly.  He  reminded  me 
all  the  time  when  he  spoke  of  what  Chesterfield  says  of  Bolingbroke, 
that  his  eloquence  was  of  so  pure  and  fine  a  character  that  were  his 
ordinary  and  familiar  talk  taken  down  as  it  fell  from  his  lips  it 
might  have  been  printed  without  correction  either  as  to  method  or 
style.  It  is  without  question  the  purest,  smoothest,  most  dignified, 
and  elegant  conversation  I  have  ever  heard.  May  I  hear  more  of  it 
next  fall  and  winter  !" 


Mr.  Brown's  political  opinions  were  not  held,  as  has  been 
hinted,  without  the  sacrifice  of  other  things.  As  an  illus 
tration  of  this  remark,  after  conducting  for  three  years  an 


MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

editorial  department  in  the  Penn  Monthly  Magazine,  he  re 
signed  from  political  differences.  So  great,  however,  was 
the  desire  to  retain  him  on  the  staff  that  several  times  his 
articles  were  published  through  the  other  editors  generously 
waiving  their  right  of  control,  because,  in  the  language  of 
one  of  them  to  him,  "  You  felt  sure  that  you  were  right." 
It  was  finally  on  the  Bristow  question  that  the  split  was 
made. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1876,  Mr.  Brown  sent  to  the 
New  York  Tribune  the  following  letter,  which  indicates  his 
feelings  in  regard  to  public  affairs  at  that  time : 

"  To  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  TRIBUNE. 

"  SIR, — The  fall  of  Mr.  Belknap  has  precipitated  a  crisis.  Men 
knew  before  that  public  affairs  were  corrupt  from  low  places  up  to 
high,  but  this  event  has  convinced  even  those  who  hated  to  believe, 
and  brought  the  thing  in  all  its  ghastliness  before  their  eyes.  It  has 
stirred  this  country  as  nothing  has  done  since  the  death  of  Lincoln. 
'  We  must  be  rid  of  politicians,'  is  the  cry  which  goes  up  on  all  sides, 
as  if  we  could  dispense  with  politicians  in  a  government  like  this. 
The  fault  lies,  indeed,  directly  at  the  door  of  that  class  of  men,  but 
it  is  not  wholly  theirs.  A  large  share  of  it  belongs  to  those  who  are 
the  first  to  impute  it  to  the  politician.  Nothing  can  be  more  unjust 
than  to  brand  with  obloquy  a  class  of  men  and  sot  them  apart  for 
scorn  because  of  the  sins  of  a  portion,  however  large  that  number. 
And  nothing,  surely,  is  more  fatal  under  institutions  like  ours  than 
this  disposition,  to-day,  to  stamp  office-holders  with  distrust  and 
frighten  out  of  the  public  service  all  who  are  best  fitted  to  discharge 
its  duties.  How  can  we  improve  the  condition  of  our  affairs  if,  be 
cause  many  men  in  place  are  unworthy,  we  make  the  very  act  of 
holding  office,  in  advance,  dishonorable?  The  politicians,  it  is  true, 
are  in  the  main  to  blame  for  this  unhealthy  sentiment,  but  the  people 
themselves  have  suffered  to  grow  up  the  things  from  which  it  takes 
its  rise.  Nowhere  in  the  world  is  politics  so  plain  a  duty  as  in  the 
United  States ;  nowhere  else  can  the  neglect  of  it  breed  more  fatal 
consequences.  For  one,  I  do  not  share  the  usual  contempt  of  men 
for  the  much-abused  title  of  politician.  Office-seeking  may  be  one 


LETTER    TO   THE  "NEW  YORK  TRIBUNES       H7 

thing  and  politics  another.  There  is  no  profession  more  honor 
able,  short  of  the  ministry  of  Christ,  than  that  of  politician,  in  its 
truerr  better  sense.  To  devote  great  talents  and  lofty  character  to 
the  common  good,  to  consecrate  great  powers  to  the  State,  to  stand 
up  in  her  service  unmoved  alike  by  the  fickle  winds  of  favor  or  the 
storms  of  adversity,  to  act  only  for  the  commonweal, — this  is. indeed 
to  be  a  politician  and  a  statesman  ;  and  there  can  be  little  hope  for 
the  future  of  America  when  such  a  career  shall  have  ceased  to  be 
possible,  and  such  an  ideal  to  stir  the  ambition  of  her  youth. 

u  One  cause  of  our  present  evils  is  not  far  to  seek.  The  American 
people  are  still  virtuous  and  patriotic.  They  have  shown  their  devo 
tion  to  both  honor  and  their  country  under  the  severest  ordeals  that 
ever  tried  a  people.  But,  the  war  over  and  the  Union  saved,  they 
turned  to  their  private  affairs  writh  an  eagerness  born  partly  of  ne 
cessity  and  partly  of  disgust  with  politics,  which,  in  its  false  mean 
ing,  they  had  come  to  think  the  cause  of  all  their  troubles.  A  few 
wise  counsellors  warned  them  that  to  neglect  politics  utterly  was 
dangerous.  '  No,'  they  said  among  themselves,  '  politics  is  not  the 
art  of  governing,  but  of  getting  rich  by  plunder.  We  are  tired  of 
faction  and  worn  out  with  party  strife.  We  have  done  our  duty  to 
our  country  and  want  no  personal  reward.  Let  others  take  the  offices 
if  they  wish.  We  have  business  to  attend  to.  Let  us  alone.'  They 
have  now  so  long  neglected  their  public  affairs,  or  intrusted  them  so 
often  to  selfish  and  unworthy  hands,  that  there  has  come  to  be  a  class, 
distinct  from  and  even  sometimes  hostile  to  the  people,  with  which 
subserviency  to  party  is  the  single  test  of  merit,  which  holds  in  its 
hands  all  the  paths  to  power  and  commands  every  avenue  to  office, 
dictates  its  own  terms,  issues  its  own  decrees,  sets  up  candidates  and 
knocks  them  down,  with  little  sen'se  either  of  responsibility  or  honor, 
giving  to  those  who  cast  the  votes  and  pay  the  taxes  small  share  in 
shaping  party  or  national  policy,  and  so  little  voice  in  the  selection  of 
their  rulers  that,  in  most  cases,  there  is  nothing  but  a  choice  of  evils. 
And  what  has  been  the  logical  result?  Bad  men  creeping  into  high 
places  •,  party  spirit  preferred  to  patriotism  ;  public  honors  the  spoil  of 
faction ;  political  patronage  the  reward  of  dishonesty  5  the  glory  of 
great  deeds  put  to  the  basest  use  ;  high  powers  prostituted  for  gain  : 
great  places  bought  and  sold  5  the  gates  of  office  shut  to  honest  men  ; 
the  service  of  the  State  no  longer  an  honorable  career ;  confidence 
shaken  ;  faith  undermined ;  trust  betrayed ;  the  people  plundered ; 


118  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

the  State  disgraced ;  the  nation  dishonored ;  old  age  disheartened ; 
youth  made  corrupt;  manhood  put  to  shame.  There  have  been  ex 
ceptions,  it  is  true,  and  they  have  shone  all  the  brighter  by  the  con 
trast,  but  such  things  have  we  all  seen  as  this  first  century  of  our 
national  life  draws  to  a  close.  Were  they  not  dangerous  to  our 
selves  -we  cannot  ignore  the  influence  of  such  examples  on  those 
who  are  growing  up  among  us.  If  we  show  them  bad  men  in  power 
and  a  people  apathetic,  can  we  doubt  that  our  children  will  better 
such  instruction? 

"And  these  evils,  of  which  all  patriotic  men  complain,  are  long 
past  being  corrected  by  party  platforms,  however  adroit,  or  party 
promises,  however  eloquent.  For  years  we  have  been  fed  on  such 
things,  and  we  suffer  still.  No  disease  like  ours  was  ever  cured  by 
aggravating  and  perpetuating  its  cause.  We  need  a  radical  medi 
cine.  Nor  can  we  hesitate  to  take  it.  When  things  that  have  long 
been  dangerous  become  disgraceful,  honest  citizens  have  no  longer 
any  choice.  Under  our  institutions  duty  goes  hand  in  hand  with 
privilege ;  we  cannot  shirk  the  one  and  hope  always  to  enjoy  the 
other.  The  people  of  this  country  must  shoulder  their  own  burdens, 
choose  once  more  their  own  rulers,  take  their  affairs  again  into  their 
own  keeping,  and  teach  the  politicians  that  they  propose  to  carry  on 
this  government  by  their  aid,  perhaps,  if  they  can,  without  it  if  they 
must.  They  should  use  every  honest  means  within  their  power — 
and  who  can  limit  the  means  and  power  of  an  aroused  and  deter 
mined  people? — to  secure,  this  year  at  least,  the  purification  of  pub 
lic  affairs,  the  faithful  discharge  of  public  duties,  character  and 
brains  in  public  place,  prompt  and  impartial  enforcement  of  the 
laws,  economy,  honesty,  and  ability  in  every  department  of  the 
government.  To  do  this,  or  even  vigorously  attempt  it,  will  indeed 
be  worthily  to  celebrate  the  Centennial  year.  But  they  can  do 
nothing  without  the  election  of  a  President  of  their  own.  Left  to 
themselves,  the  managers  of  both  parties  will  set  up  men  for  the 
people  to  vote  for,  whom  the  majority  of  neither  party  would  select. 
For  any  new  organization  the  time  has  both  gone  by  and  not  yet 
come.  The  formation  of  one  (formidable  as  it  might  be  even  at  the 
outset)  before  the  Cincinnati  Convention  shall  finally  have  refused 
to  satisfy  the  longings  of  the  people  for  better  men  and  things, 
would  throw  the  prize  at  once  into  the  Democratic  camp,  and 
strengthen  in  advance  the  worst  elements  of  that  distrusted  party. 


LETTER   TO    THE  "NEW  YORK  TRIBUNE."      H9 

What,  then,  can  we  hope  for?  The  Kepublicans  will  not  nominate 
Mr.  Adams.  He  represents  everything  that  is  most  desirable  in 
a  President, — character,  capacity,  training,  experience,  traditions. 
But  men  say  he  cannot  be  nominated  at  Cincinnati.  Well,  what 
then? 

"  We  have  within  the  ranks  a  good  Republican,  who  was  faithful 
in  the  darkest  days  under  circumstances  which  put  his  courage  and 
conviction  to  the  sharpest  test.  No  Democrat  turned  Unionist,  like 
Andrew  Johnson,  only  to  change  again,  but  a  Republican  from  the 
beginning,  bred  from  an  old  Whig  stock.  A  soldier  during  the  Avar, 
active  and  distinguished  in  the  field  ;  a  lawyer  who  has  won  reputa 
tion  and  high  position  at  the  bar ;  a  man  of  administrative  ability 
as  well  as  a  sagacious  counsellor,  who  has  not  only  opinions,  but  is 
ready  to  enforce  them,  and  who,  while  putting  his  duty  to  his 
country  first,  has  been  all  the  truer  to  his  party,  because  he  has  re 
fused  to  let  scoundrels,  who  have  robbed  the  people,  make  use  of  its 
prestige  or  take  refuge  behind  its  glory ;  a  Southerner  who  was 
loyal, — a  Kentuckian  who  fought  in  the  Union  army  ;  a  Western 
man,  right  and  outspoken  on  the  currency  5  a  Republican  official 
who  has  been  the  foe  of  corruption  and  the  punisher  of  thieves. 
Mr.  Bristow  is  comparatively  young  in  years,  but  not  in  the  service 
of  his  country.  He  has  been  long  enough  in  public  life  to  show  his 
ability,  his  patriotism,  his  courage,  his  sense  of  honor,  his  self-re 
liance,  his  strength  of  will.  A  month  ago  the  President  feared  and 
was  hostile  to  him ;  to-day  he  bears  the  whole  Administration  on  his 
shoulders.  When  men  heard  that  Belknap  had  fallen  in  dishonor, 
from  Grant  down  they  turned  to  Bristow  as  the  only  man  to  trust. 
He,  at  least,  has  had  no  connection  with  the  things  that  have  dis 
graced  us,  nor  shown  sympathy  with  those  who  have.  Here  is  in 
deed  a  candidate  fit  for  the  place  and  time.  Leaders  have  been 
raised  up  for  us  before,  but  rarely  so  evidently  as  this  man  to-day. 
But  how  can  he  be  nominated?  Only  by  that  without  which  little 
that  is  valuable  has  ever  been  accomplished, — hard  work.  Mr. 
Bristow  can  be  chosen  by  the  organization  of  the  sentiment  in  his 
favor,  now  so  apparent,  into  a  force  so  strong  without  the  conven 
tion  as  to  cause  alarm,  so  strong  within  as  to  command  a  hearing. 
His  friends  must  work  as  those  of  other  men  are  working.  They 
must  organize  at  once.  They  must  use  the  party  machinery  to 
secure  delegates  wherever  possible.  They  must  get  together  in 


120  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

city,  town,  and  village,  form  clubs,  open  correspondence,  write  to 
the  newspapers,  argue  with  the  hostile,  convince  the  doubting,  teach 
the  ignorant.  They  must  use  every  hour  they  can  command  until 
the  14th  day  of  June,  and  then  be  represented  well  at  Cincinnati, 
outside  as  well  as  inside  the  convention.  The  majority  of  the 
present  leaders  would  prefer  any  man  to  Mr.  Bristow.  What  ad 
vantage  to  them  would  be  the  choice  of  such  a  man?  Better  for 
their  purposes  the  election  of  a  Democrat.  They  build,  as  usual,  on 
prejudice,  and  count  on  the  mistakes  of  their  antagonists.  They 
expect  to  win  this  time,  as  they  have  before,  not  because  their  can 
didate  is  better,  but  because  that  of  their  adversaries  is  worse. 
Those  who  have  so  often  profited  by  Republican  partisanship  and 
Democratic  blunders  see  no  necessity  for  the  nomination  of  Mr. 
Bristow.  But  they  will  not  control  this  next  convention  in  the  old- 
fashioned  way.  The  majority  of  delegates  will  not,  it  is  true,  be 
Bristow  men  from  choice,  but  they  will  desire  victory  above  all 
things,  hoping,  with  the  election  of  any  Republican,  to  keep  their 
places  undisturbed.  The  rumors  of  revolt  will  not  have  touched 
their  ears  in  vain,  nor  will  their  eyes  be  blind  to  signs  of  indepen 
dence.  Such  an  organization  as  honest  work  will  make  all  over  this 
country,  in  the  present  temper  of  the  people, — if  it  will  but  an 
nounce  beforehand,  frankly,  its  determination  to  work  for  Bristow 
with  all  its  might,  but  to  support  no  candidate  below  the  plane  on 
which  he  stands,  and  even,  if  driven  to  the  choice,  to  acquiesce  in 
the  election  of  an  honest  Democrat  rather  than  help  that  of  a  doubt 
ful  Republican, — cannot  fail  to  influence  a  convention  composed  of 
men  who  desire  most  of  all  success.  That  is  the  great  step  in  this 
business.  Convince  the  delegates  that  distrust  of  Democrats  alone 
is  no  longer  sufficient  to  elect  Republicans,  and  the  fight  is  won. 

u  And  what  may  not  such  a  nomination  do?  It  will  bring  back 
into  the  ranks  the  best  of  those  who  have  gone  out  since  '68.  It 
will  awaken  enthusiasm  that  has  not  been  felt  since  ?64.  It  will 
place  the  party  on  the  safe  and  honest  ground  of  principle.  It  will 
be  a  guaranty  for  the  future,  and  recall  what  is  best  and  most  hon 
orable  in  the  past.  It  will  stop  dissensions,  close  gaps,  heal  wounds 
that  might  be  fatal.  Liberals,  Independents,  Republicans  of  every 
grade  and  kind,  save  only  those  whose  leadership  is  death,  will  work 
together  with  a  will  for  such  a  candidate,  and  we  shall  at  last  have 
a  President  who  can  be  relied  upon  to  crush  corruption  and  give  us 


FIFTH  AVENUE   CONFERENCE,  121 

such  an  administration  of  the  highest  office  as  shall  satisfy  the  as 
pirations  of  a  free,  intelligent,  and  patriotic  people. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 
"  PHILADELPHIA,  March  27,  1876." 

This  letter  was  the  first  gun  of  the  Reform  movement 
in  relation  to  the  Presidential  election.  Bayard  Taylor,  in 
an  editorial  notice  of  the  same  day,  says  of  it :  "  It  is  a 
most  encouraging  sign  when  a  young  man  of  talent  and  in 
creasing  reputation,  like  Mr.  Henry  Armitt  Brown,  whose 
communication  we  publish  to-day,  shows  himself  clearly 
awake  to  the  difficulties  and  duties  of  our  present  political 
situation.  He  describes  them  with  an  earnestness  which 
does  not  obscure  the  impartiality  of  his  vision,  and  which, 
wre  trust,  may  carry  with  it  a  potent  infection  for  good. 
The  sooner  the  young  men  of  our  country,  recognizing  the 
extent  and  verity  of  our  disgrace,  shall  thus  analyze  its 
causes  and  find  one  of  them  in  their  own  apathy,  the  more 
speedy  and  sure  will  be  the  needful  political  reaction." 

The  famous  Fifth  Avenue  conference  of  those  who  de 
sired  to  bring  about  the  reformation  of  our  national  affairs, 
which  was  called  by  William  Cullen  Bryant,  Carl  Schurz, 
Martin  Brimmer,  ex-Governor  Bullock,  Horace  White,  L. 
F.  S.  Foster,  Parke  Godwin,  and  J.  W.  Hoyt,  and  which 
was  presided  over  by  ex-President  Woolsey,  was  held  in 
New  York,  May  16,  1876.  To  this  meeting  Mr.  Brown 
was  appointed  delegate,  and  took  part  in  the  speaking. 
Although  nothing  definite  in  the  way  of  political  nomina 
tion  was  proposed,  yet  the  principles  set  forth  in  speeches 
and  resolutions  were  of  a  positive  kind.  They  pointed  to 
the  speedy  resumption  of  specie  payment ;  a  thorough  non- 
partisan  civil  service,  where  fidelity  and  capacity  should 

9 


122  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

constitute  the  only  real  claim  to  public  employment ;  the 
supremacy  of  the  civil  over  the  military  authority  in  every 
part  of  the  land,  and  total  non-interference  on  the  part  of 
the  general  government  with  the  local  affairs  of  the  States ; 
retrenchment  and  reduction  of  the  public  expenses ;  the 
earnest  effort  to  have  a  man  chosen  for  the  Presidency  who 
was  not  a  mere  politician  but  an  honest  man,  whose  very 
name  would  be  a  sufficient  guarantee  of  honest  government 
and  a  rigid  enforcement  of  the  laws.  The  manifesto  of  this 
conference  was  a  noble  document.  It  ended  with  these 
words :  "  Our  generation  has  to  open  the  second  century  of 
our  national  life  as  the  fathers  opened  the  first.  Theirs 
was  the  work  of  independence ;  ours  is  the  work  of  refor 
mation.  The  one  is  as  vital  now  as  it  was  then.  Every 
true  American  must  have  the  courage  of  his  duty."  In  a 
narrow  sense,  it  may  be  said  that  this  movement  was  a 
failure ;  but  who  can  tell  the  influence  that  a  bold  effort 
like  this — a  thunder-storm  in  the  political  firmament — had 
upon  the  political  condition  of  the  country?  Huss  and 
Latimer  were  burned  at  the  stake,  but  the  words  they  spoke 
have  purified,  for  centuries,  the  religious  life  of  Protestant 
and  Catholic  alike.  The  words  of  an  earnest  young  man 
like  Henry  Armitt  Brown,  spoken  fearlessly  at  the  time 
of  his  opportunity,  are  not  lost ;  they  are  felt  now,  and  will 
always  be  felt. 

The  singular  prominence  (for  a  young  man)  that  he  had 
at  this  time,  the  fact  that  his  native  city  and  State  put  him 
forward  on  every  public  occasion,  the  frequency  with  which 
his  name  came  before  the  people,  the  many  speeches  he  made 
here  and  there,  before  all  kinds  of  societies, — political,  phi 
losophical,  social,  and  literary, — have  led  some  to  say  that 
he  was  ambitious  of  distinction, — a  frequent  charge  against 
young  men  who  take  a  leading  part  in  affairs.  He  doubt- 


CHARGE   OF  BEING  AMBITIOUS.  123 

less  was  ambitious ;  he  did  aim  at  a  certain  kind  of  power 
which  is  the  fair  object  of  political  striving ;  but  ambition 
is  to  be  viewed  with  intelligent  discrimination.  Ambition 
is  a  sentiment  of  the  healthy  mind  just  as  is  the  law  of 
happiness.  If  a  man  have  power,  he  is  forced  to  try  it  in 
competition  with  others.  If  a  man  have  a  gift  like  oratory, 
he  has  a  lawful  delight  in  its  use,  which  is  also  a  means  of 
its  development.  The  desire  to  unfold  one's  powers,  like  the 
wings  of  an  eagle,  is  the  spring  of  achievement.  If  it  end 
merely  in  this  self-development,  it  becomes  ignoble.  But 
a  young  man  without  ambition  is  like  a  tree  without  sap. 
He  lacks  the  principle  of  natural  growth.  His  restlessness 
may  be  the  spirit  of  God  stirring  in  him. 

"  The  noble  hart  that  harbours  vertuous  thought, 

And  is  with  childe  of  glorious  great  intent, 
Can  never  rest  untill  it  forth  hath  brought 
The  eternal  broode  of  glorie  excellent."* 

But,  if  ambitious,  Mr.  Brown's  well-regulated  will  and 
balanced  nature  kept  these  fires  under  control.  He  loved 
well-earned  praise  as  noble  men  always  do,  but  he  never 
bought  praise  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  principles,  though 
ready  to  suffer  for  them.  He  declined  offers  of  official 
position.  Pie  did  not  seek  prominence  in  any  way,  as  he 
did  not  seek  office.  He  might  have  been  a  mere  social 
celebrity.  He  might  have  belonged  to  the  jeunesse  dore 
of  a  great  city.  But  the  only  reward  he  asked  for  doing 
well  was  to  have  more  work  to  do.  He  did  delight  in  this 
taxing  and  filling  up  to  the  utmost  of  all  his  energies  with 
public  work  put  upon  him,  and  he  cheerfully  spent  "labo 
rious  days"  without  personal  reward  in  this  kind  of  service. 

*  Edmund  Spenser. 


124  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

He  flung  himself  into  the  Presidential  contest  with  the 
greatest  ardor,  and  no  one  man  toiled  more  incessantly,  both 
in  public  and  private,  to  bring  about  what  he  considered  a 
higher  political  result  than  had  yet  been  attained,  at  least 
in  these  last  days.  But,  before  speaking  of  this,  let  us  go 
back  to  a  characteristic  of  Mr.  Brown's  mind,  which  has 
already  been  alluded  to, — his  love  of  nature.  He  had  the 
poetic  sense,  but  his  busy  life  did  not  permit  him  to  indulge 
this  taste,  for  politics  and  aesthetics  do  not  inhabit  the  same 
house.  But  he  lost  no  opportunity  to  catch  a  smile  from 
nature's  face.  He  wearied  of  the  city ;  he  longed  for  the  free, 
open  country.  He  delighted  to  pass  the  summer  months 
in  the  picturesque  hill  region  of  Litchfield,  Connecticut, 
where,  with  his  dog  and  gun,  he  roamed  the  fields  and 
woods  about  blue  Bantam  Lake,  and  filled  his  mind  with 
fresh  thoughts.  He  was  keen  in  his  notice  of  scenery,  and 
his  letters  are  full  of  expressions  of  pure  joy  at  new  scenes. 
He  was  observant  of  trees.  He  loved  an  oak  as  he  did  an 
oration  of  Demosthenes,  or  any  other  strong  and  beautiful 
product. 

In  a  letter,  dated  August  22,  1875,  to  his  mother,  who 
was  then  in  Europe,  he  describes  the  changes  that  had 
taken  place  at  the  family's  "  summer  home"  in  Burlington, 
New  Jersey,  which  had  been  unoccupied  for  many  years, 
and  especially  in  the  transformation  time  had  wrought  on 
the  trees  there.  Surely  none  but  a  lover  of  such  things 
could  have  written  the  following : 

"  In  vain  does  one  look  for  the  smoke-stack  of  the  steamboat  from 
that  porch,  or  from  the  chamber  window  out  of  which  you  used  to 
watch  the  coming  storms ;  the  big  willow,  and  the  linden,  and  the 
mass  of  trees  that  grow  out  of  the  '  forest,'  effectually  shut  out  the 
view.  The  maple-tree  in  the  kitchen-yard  has  thrown  up  such  enor 
mous  roots  as  to  raise  the  pavement  several  inches.  The  grapery  is 


LETTER  FROM  "SUMMER  HOME."  125 

in  reasonable  condition, — thanks  to  Woodie  Hancock.  The  walks 
are  neat  and  well  trimmed.  Some  few  of  the  trees  ought  to  have 
been  taken  out  years  ago,  but  most  of  them  are  magnificent  and 
have  thriven  wonderfully.  The  evergreens  are  superb.  In  the 
back  lot  several  spruces  are  models  of  beauty.  We  walked  about 
to-day  and  examined  several  which  ought  to  be  taken  down, — the 
shapeless  and  scraggy  ones  which  interfere  with  the  growth  of  better 
trees.  But  it  is  so  hard  to  raise  and  so  easy  to  cut  down  that  we 
shall  be  careful.  The  summer-house  remains  unchanged,  and  the 
pines  about  it  are  now  big  trees.  The  arbor-vitae  hedge  is  still  fine, 
but  roughly  so, — no  longer  trim  and  smooth.  Not  a  bush,  however, 
seems  to  have  died  or  become  sickly,  and  its  height  in  some  places 
will  reach  eight  feet.  Do  you  remember  the  row  of  pear-trees  that 
never  would  bear  much  fruit,  that  stood  near  the  hedge  ?  There 
were  some  quinces  that  stood  in  front  of  them.  They  have  now 
grown  great,  and  seven  of  them  are  Seckels,  and  are  hanging  full  of 
fruit.  They  are  fifteen  or  eighteen  feet  high  and  very  promising. 
The  wistaria  that  you  planted  around  the  little  arbor  at  the  entrance 
of  the  vegetable  garden  has  become  of  extraordinary  size.  It  covers 
the  side  of  the  barn, — stretching  across  the  roof,  runs  under  it  and 
appears  on  the  other  side  of  the  stable-yard,  and  swings  about  the 
chestnut  and  maple  trees  in  the  most  generous  fashion.  The  dwarf 
pears  in  the  little  orchard  have  ceased  to  be,  the  stocks  gradually 
dying  from  age.  The  little  cherry  and  evergreen  that  were  hardly 
noticeable  there  five  years  ago  are  tall  and  vigorous  trees,  and  you 
cannot  see  the  stable  from  the  house.  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  birds 
are  very  numerous,  and  still  more  so  that  the  place  has  become  the 
resort  of  many  beautiful  red  squirrels,  which  apparently  have  their 
home  in  the  big  maple  that  took  ten  horses  and  eight  men  to  move, 
for  the  base  of  that  tree  is  heaped  with  gnawed  walnut  shells.  While 
we  were  at  dinner  one  of  the  little  bright-eyed  fellows  came  up  to 
the  piazza  and  gambolled  about  to  the  great  delight  of  Nannie.  The 
grass  in  many  places  is  worn,  and  in  many  places  it  is  a  mass  of 
soft  green  moss.  So,  too,  are  the  banks  on  the  side  toward  Aunt 
Mary's  house.  The  big  honeysuckle  still  blooms  in  fragrance  at 
the  corner  of  the  veranda  where  you  used  to  sit  in  hot  mornings, 
and  at  the  front  steps  is  the  other  vine,  in  which  I  notice  a  bird's 
nest  as  of  old.  There  are  but  few  flowers  about  except  the  roses, 
which  are  blooming  in  great  bushes  here  and  there.  I  feel  that  you 


126  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

have  been  in  communion  with  us  this  afternoon  as  we  walked  about 
and  recognized  the  different  trees,  and  talked  of  them  and  those  they 
have  sheltered  once  on  a  time.  Here  is  the  maple  that  was  planted 
to  replace  the  one  snapped  off  in  the  great  storm  of  '54;  there  is 
the  locust,  once  but  two  or  four  inches  thick,  where  we  used  to 
get  the  great  thorns  for  antlers  when  we  '  played  deer,' — now  a  tree 
eighteen  inches  in  the  butt ;  another  tree  as  thick  as  my  body,  which 
I  planted  as  a  seed  picked  up  in  the  circle  in  front  of  the  house  on 
the  little  grave  at  the  foot  of  it,  still  a  mound  a  foot  high,  where 
'  Bluff'  was  buried  ;  and  yonder  is  the  giant  chestnut  in  Aunt  Mary's 
back  orchard,  now  a  cone  of  yellow  blossoms !  The  ancient  crab- 
apple  smiles  a  sickly  smile,  the  '  Kentucky  coffee-tree'  has  thrown 
his  head  skyward  forty  feet,  and  the  twin  chestnuts  at  the  corner  of 
the  house  are  two  feet  thick  at  the  stern.  One  of  the  larches  has 
begun  to  die  at  the  heart  and  shows  now  about  six  feet  of  dead  top 
above  the  purple  magnolia,  but  the  other,  its  mate  on  the  other  side 
of  the  '  arch,'  is  tall  and  sturdy.  The  copper  beeches  stand  as  of 
old.  The  pair  of  yews,  spreading  over  a  diameter  of  twelve  or 
thirteen  feet,  still  guard  the  front  walk ;  the  smoke-trees  are  feath 
ered  with  pink  cloud  from  top  to  toe  as  they  were  wont  to  be,  and 
the  constant  chattering  of  robin,  blackbird,  thrush,  and  wren  keep 
up  the  concert  all  day  long." 

In  another  letter,  dated  June  10,  1877,  written  from 
Lebanon  Springs,  New  York,  he  gives  utterance  to  a  wish 
that  his  old  friend,  Horatius  Flaccus,  would  certainly  have 
joined  him  in,  and  they  two  would  have  tramped  out  with 
immense  pleasure  to  survey  the  spot,  to  look  up  the  capa 
bilities  of  the  place,  and  to  discover  the  qualities  of  the 
trees,  the  soil,  and  the  springs.  No  snow-powdered  Soracte, 
it  is  true,  was  in  sight,  but  the  Catskills  must  do  for  the 
nonce.  He  says : 

"  And  yet  I  think  if  I  were  a  millionnaire  and  could  indulge  a 
passing  fancy,  I  would  buy  fifty  or  a  hundred  acres  that  I  know  of, 
two  or  two  and  a  half  miles  from  here,  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  from 
which  the  views  surpass  anything  I  have  seen  except  Rigi  Culm. 
There  is  a  natural  terrace  between  two  knobs  of  rock  on  which  a 


SPEECH  AT  THE  CINCINNATI  CONVENTION.     127 

cottage  could  stand.  Behind  it  is  a  large  dense  wood  of  chestnut, 
oak,  and  pine  trees.  From  the  front  of  a  house  built  here  you  could 
take  in  three-fourths  of  the  horizon.  You  look  eastward  into  Berk 
shire  County  and  see  half  a  dozen  villages  with  their  dividing  ranges 
of  hills,  while  to  the  southward  beyond  the  valley  of  the  Hudson  the 
Catskill  range  stands  up  like  a  purple  wall.  The  hill  is  not  very 
high,  but  peculiarly  placed,  and  I  would  buy  some  acres  and  build  a 
cottage  here  had  I  the  needful." 

Mr.  Brown  went  to  Cincinnati  in  June  of  1876  as  a 
delegate  of  the  "Bristow  Club  of  Philadelphia"  to  the 
Republican  convention,  to  use  all  honorable  means  to  secure 
the  nomination  of  their  candidate.  The  history  of  that 
famous  convention,  of  its  wirepullings,  schemings,  skirmish 
ings,  votings,  changing  phases  like  JS"aseby  fight,  and  its  (to 
the  country  at  large)  unexpected  result,  is  well  known  and 
need  not  be  repeated.  He,  who  had  been  among  the  first 
in  the  field  for  his  candidate,  made  a  brave  stand  for  him. 
He  delivered  a  vigorous  speech  at  Pike's  Opera  House, 
Cincinnati,  Tuesday,  June  13,  Hon.  Job  E.  Stevenson  in 
the  chair.  From  this  speech  we  make  but  one  extract : 

"  What  is  it  that  the  people  of  this  country  desire  to  do?  What 
is  it  that  they  demand  in  a  candidate  ?  Character  ?  Is  that  much  ? 
Capacity?  Is  that  much  in  an  intelligent  people?  Courage?  Is 
that  much  in  a  people  that  has  shown  the  bravery  of  the  Ameri 
can  people?  Character,  capacity,  courage:  those  things  they  ask. 
They  ask  fidelity  to  trust,  fidelity  to  republican  institutions.  They 
ask  an  honest  government,  an  honest  and  able  administration  of 
their  public  affairs.  They  want  to  see  men  in  the  highest  as  well  as 
'the  lowest  offices  of  this  government,  who  are  honest,  faithful,  capa 
ble,  and  who  can  be  trusted.  They  ask  this  not  as  a  favor,  but  as  a 
right,  and  they  are  bound  to  have  it.  The  politician  of  the  hour, 
be  he  reinforced  ten  million  times,  cannot  make  the  people  of  this 
country  any  longer  vote  against  their  will  for  dishonest  men.  [Ap 
plause.]  You  may  take  the  horse  to  water,  but  how  many  does  it 
take  to  make  him  drink  ?  They  may  nominate,  but  it  is  the  people 


128  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

who  elect.  They  must  give  us  a  different  kind  of  men  from  the  sort 
that  we  have  been  threatened  with,  to  say  the  least.  And,  more 
than  that,  the  people,  I  say,  demand  these  things  of  a  candidate. 
They  demand,  also,  a  man  who  has  been  tried ;  who  has  shown  his 
courage  ;  who  talks  not  about  reform,  but  does  reform  ;  who  prom 
ises  nothing,  but  who  performs ; — a  man  who  has  given  pledges  ;  a 
man  who  has  proved  his  sincerity  ;  a  man  who  has  passed  through 
the  fire  and  has  not  proved  himself  a  tallow  candle.  They  want 
that  kind  of  a  man  ;  they  want  a  man  born  with  a  backbone ;  they 
want  a  man  who  has  a  backbone  born  in  him  and  developed ;  they 
want  a  man  who  has  a  backbone  that  has  been  strengthened  by  the 
practice  of  standing  up ;  they  want  a  man  who  can  resist  tempta 
tion.  These  are  not  great  things  to  ask  ;  and  the  American  people, 
as  a  patriotic,  as  an  intelligent  people,  demand  and  will  have  these 
things.  [Applause.] 

"  Now,  is  it  impossible  for  the  Republican  party  to  furnish  this  ? 
Is  there  not,  in  that  great  party  that  went  into  the  war  and  crushed 
rebellion,  such  a  man  as  that?  Is  there  not  in  the  party  that  saved 
the  Union  and  held  up  the  hands  of  Abraham  Lincoln  such  a  man 
as  that?  There  are  many,  but  there  is  one  to-day  raised  up  for  us 
as  a  leader  by  the  hand  of  God  himself.  In  crises,  in  dangerous 
times  in  our  history,  God  has  raised  up  leaders  before  this.  When 
he  raises  up  before  us  a  leader  to-day  who  stands  pointing  out  the 
path,  shall  we  be  blind  ?  In  all  parts  of  this  country  to-night,  in 
little  hamlets  by  the  sea-board,  in  huts  in  the  mountains,  in  the  me 
chanic's  shop,  by  the  forge,  by  the  furnace,  wherever  in  this  country 
the  honest  and  patriotic  American  longs  for  honesty  in  power,  and 
purity  in  national  affairs,  his  eye  turns,  as  if  by  instinct,  to  the 
south  bank  of  the  Ohio,  and  his  voice  utters  the  name  of  Bristow. 
[Prolonged  applause.] 

"  My  friends,  there  is  no  doubt  of  this.  Poll  the  American  people 
to-day  and  they  would  say  Bristow — eight  out  of  ten  of  them.  Poll 
the  Republicans  in  all  parts  of  this  country,  and  Bristow  is  their 
choice  to-day.  [Cheers.]  Even  here  in  Cincinnati — I  don't  mean 
even  here  in  Cincinnati,  but  I  mean  even  here  in  Cincinnati  among 
the  politicians — go  and  ask  them  about  the  candidates,  and  one  will 
say  Mr.  A.,  and  some  will  say  Mr.  B.,  and  a  very  few — chiefly  from 
the  State  of  New  York— will  say  Mr.  C.  [Laughter.]  They  de 
clare  for  this  and  that  one  as  their  first  choice,  but  they  say,  after 


SPEECH  AT  THE  CINCINNATI  CONVENTION.     J29 

all,  that  Bristow  would  carry  the  people.  Even  among  the  politi 
cians  who  are  the  managers  of  the  machine,  while  they  prefer  one 
man  from  this  State,  or  another  man  from  a  different  State,  and  so 
on,  yet  they  all  agree  that  the  second  man  is  Bristow."  [Applause.] 

The  speech  was  thus  commented  upon  in  the  papers : 

"  Another  of  the  events  of  the  night  was  a  speech  of  the 
young  Philadelphia  orator,  Henry  Armitt  Brown,  before  a 
Bristow  meeting  at  Pike's  Opera  House.  Mr.  Brown  re 
viewed  the  situation  of  the  party  in  1872,  when  it  con 
trolled  so  many  States,  with  a  man  in  the  opposition  whose 
candidacy  was  a  comedy,  until  it  passed  over  the  narrow 
limit  between  the  comic  and  the  pathetic,  and  the  farce 
ended  in  a  tragedy.  Then  he  described  the  present  haz 
ardous  condition  of  the  party  in  the  country,  and  its  de 
pendence  on  the  character  of  the  candidate  to  be  put  for 
ward  by  the  convention.  The  qualities  the  people  now 
demand,  he  said,  are  character,  capacity,  and  courage ;  and 
Mr.  Bristow,  he  thought,  filled  the  demands.  Mr.  Brown's 
speech  was  a  really  brilliant  one,  and  was  enthusiastically 
received  by  the  friends  of  Mr.  Bristow." 

"  Mr.  Brown's  beautiful  diction,  close  logic,  and  admira 
ble  bearing  on  the  platform  were  brought  into  their  best 
play  in  the  presence  of  a  large  audience  assembled.  Job 
Stevenson  presided.  Dr.  Bellows  of  New  York,  James 
Freeman  Clarke  of  Boston,  and  others  spoke.  Mr.  Brown, 
in  concluding,  said:  'In  a  time  like  this  America  wants 
not  the  representative  of  any  particular  section,  nor  the 
favorite  son  of  any  State.  What  she  wants  is  a  man.  Six 
teen  years  ago  she  found  him  in  Illinois ;  to-day  she  finds 
him  in  Kentucky/  " 

Mr.  Brown's  liking  for  Mr.  Bristow  was  reciprocated  by 
the  latter  gentleman.  Neither  sought  the  other's  friend 
ship,  and  it  was  only  a  strong  similarity  of  political  views 


130  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

that  brought  them  together.  They  became  confidential  cor 
respondents,  and  recognized  in  each  other  many  of  the  same 
characteristics.  Mr.  Bristow  has  freely  declared  that  Henry 
Armitt  Brown  was  bom  to  be  a  political  leader,  because  he 
not  only  had  political  insight,  but  because  he  acted  on  his 
convictions ;  and  that  he  was  sure,  if  he  had  lived,  to  take 
a  high  position  in  the  nation.  He  was  equal  to  any  post 
in  the  gift  of  the  people. 

The  Cincinnati  Convention  over,  the  months  of  June 
and  July,  1876,  were  taken  up  with  that  long  looked  for 
event,  the  national  commemoration  at  Philadelphia,  when, 
in  presence  of  a  mighty  multitude  from  all  parts  of  the 
land,  the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  was  celebrated  by  song,  speech,  and  the  united 
and  reverent  acclaim  of  joyful  hearts.  In  the  wording  of 
Mr.  Evarts's  oration,  "  The  event  brought  its  own  plau 
dits.  It  did  not  hang  on  the  voice  of  the  speaker,  nor  de 
pend  upon  the  contacts  and  associations  of  the  place.  It 
was  the  serene  commemoration  '  of  a  new  State,  of  a  new 
species/  which  showed  the  marvellous  wisdom  of  our  an 
cestors  ;  which  struck  the  line  between  too  little  and  too 
much ;  which  walked  by  faith,  indeed,  for  things  invisible, 
but  yet,  by  sight,  for  things  visible ;  which  dared  to  appro 
priate  everything  to  the  people  which  had  belonged  to  Caesar, 
but  to  assume  for  mortals  nothing  that  belonged  to  God." 

We  subjoin  Mr.  Brown's  account  of  his  personal  adven 
tures  on  that  multitudinous  occasion  in  a  letter  addressed  to 
his  mother.  It  is  a  pity  he  could  not  have  finished  the 
narrative.  He  writes : 

"  The  great  event,  however,  was  the  scene  on  the  10th.  Having 
received  no  invitation,  I  presumed  I  was  to  see  the  ceremonies  with 
the  democracy,  and  expected  to  go  out  towards  noon  and  spend  the 


CENTENNIAL    CELEBRATION.  131 

day  with  my  wife  in  the  grounds,  having  no  relish  for  the  scrambling 
and  pushing  of  such  a  vast  swarm  of  people. 

"On  Monday,  the  8th,  however,  I  received  an  invitation  from 
General  Hawley  asking  me  to  act  as  his  aide-de-camp.  At  first  I 
thought  I  would  refuse.  There  had  been  trouble  about  invitations, 

and  Philadelphians  generally  had  felt  slighted.     D ,  C ,  and 

others  had  not  been  asked,  and  I  felt  disinclined  to  go  except  on  my 
own  merits.  On  second  thoughts,  however,  I  reflected  that  it  was 
foolish  to  take  that  view,  and agreed  with  me,  strongly  advis 
ing  me  to  accept.  I  did  so,  and  on  Friday  went  to  report  myself.  I 
found  that  the  staff  was  to  consist  of  four  army  officers,  four  briga 
diers  of  Pennsylvania  militia,  and  four  civilians.  The  preparations 
were  being  pushed  with  an  energy  that  seemed  like  frenzy,  and  the 
rain  fell  in  torrents  from  a  leaden  sky.  At  five  in  the  morning  of 
the  10th,  I  was  awaked  by  the  din.  Whistles,  cannon  and  bells, 
made  such  a  racket  that  it  was  impossible  to  sleep.  After  a  peep  at 
the  weather,  which  was  most  unpromising,  the  rain  continuing  to 
fall,  I  breakfasted  in  haste,  and  dressed  in  my  evening  suit,  with  a 
ribbon  across  my  manly  bosom,  sallied  forth  at  seven,  met  William 
McMichael,  and  started  for  the  grounds.  We  had  to  walk  the  entire 
distance.  Wagons,  carriages,  cars,  all  were  crowded  even  at  that 
hour,  and  when  we  reached  the  gates  they  were  already,  an  hour 
before  the  opening  time,  besieged  by  an  impatient  mob.  Arriving 
at  headquarters,  we  found  that  the  four  officers,  two  of  the  briga 
diers,  and  McMichael  and  myself  constituted  the  staff.  About  half- 
past  eight,  being  told  that  we  had  three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  spare, 
McM.  and  myself  started  off  to  get  a  cup  of  coffee.  Hurrying  back 
first,  I  found,  to  my  dismay,  that  Hawley  and  his  staff  were  gone. 
Throwing  my  overcoat  into  a  corner  I  followed,  and  after  twenty 
minutes  of  vigorous  pushing  got  through  the  crowd  that  was  rapidly 
forming  below  the  circle  of  seats,  and  gained  a  place  on  the  platform. 
You  know  how  the  seats  were  arranged.  A  huge  amphitheatre  facing 
'  the  main  building  had  been  erected  against  Memorial  Hall.  A  large 
gallery  on  the  north  side  of  the  main  building  served  for  the  choristers 
and  orchestra,  and  beneath  and  between  the  two  stood  packed  the 
people.  It  was  now  half-past  nine  o'clock.  The  sun,  which  had 
been  struggling  with  the  clouds,  burst  through  and  the  morning 
became  clear  and  beautiful.  For  nearly  two  hours  the  crowd  kept 
streaming  in  unbroken.  Judges,  Governors,  Senators,  Congress- 


132  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

men,  Diplomats  in  court  costume,  Foreign  Commissioners  in  all 
sorts  of  dress,  with  a  great  multitude  of  women,  poured  through 
the  alley,  kept  by  ropes  and  soldiers  from  the  main  building  to 
the  stage,  and  mounting  the  steps  took  seats  assigned  them.  By 
half-past  ten  o'clock  there  must  have  been  a  hundred  thousand 
people  grouped  between  the  buildings.  About  that  time  the 
Emperor  of  Brazil  arrived  with  the  Empress,  and  a  large  number 
of  ladies  of  the  Cabinet  and  of  the  Senate,  and  took  the  principal 
seats.  It  must  have  been  half-past  ten  when  General  Hawley 
asked  me  to  get  McMichael  and  go  with  him  to  the  back  door  of 
Memorial  Hall,  and  remaining  there,  to  let  him  know  when  the 
President  arrived.  We  hurried  to  our  place.  By  chance  I  recog 
nized  Hudson  Rich,  of  Burlington,  as  a  captain  of  the  Centennial 
Guard.  'Can  you  detail  a  man  to  me?'  I  asked.  'Yes,'  was  the 
reply,  and  presently  I  had  a  man  posted  at  the  back  gate  with  orders 
to  let  me  know  the  instant  the  President  came.  The  scene  from  the 

back  of  Memorial  Hall  was  beautiful Here  unfortunately  am 

interrupted.  It  occurs  to  me  that  a  very  interesting  account  of  the 
opening  might  be  taken  down  from  my  lips,  but  must  close." 

Mr.  Evarts  was,  on  this  occasion,  the  guest  of  Mr.  Brown, 
and  it  is  an  interesting  though  trivial  circumstance  that,  at 
Mr.  A.  J.  DrexePs  reception  on  the  evening  of  July  4, 
Mr.  Brown  introduced  Mr.  Hayes  (then  candidate  for  the 
Presidency)  to  Mr.  Evarts,  afterwards  his  Secretary  of 
State.  It  is  remarkable  (for  so  young  a  man)  what  a 
number  of  friendships,  unmixed  with  a  shade  of  servility, 
but  characterized,  on  the  other  hand,  by  a  stiff  independ 
ence  and  self-assertion,  Mr.  Brown  already  sustained  with 
leading  men  of  the  nation.  He  met  them,  though  mod 
estly,  on  equal  terms,  and  in  the  most  natural  way.  We 
find  among  his  correspondence  letters  which  bespeak  much 
more  than  an  incidental  acquaintanceship,  and  some  of 
which  contain  a  free  interchange  of  ideas  and  opinions 
with  such  men  as  President  Hayes,  Win.  M.  Evarts,  Carl 
Schurz,  Charles  Francis  Adams,  Wendell  Phillips,  Josiah 


ARTICLE  ON  HORACE  BINNEY.  133 

Quincy,  B.  H.  Bristow,  E.  K.  Hoar,  Chief-Justice  Waite, 
Eobert  C.  Winthrop,  Benson  J.  Lossing,  Parke  Godwin, 
Longfellow,  Whittier,  James  T.  Fields,  Bret  Harte,  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes,  Wm.  Walter  Phelps,  Eugene  Schuyler, 
George  Wm.  Curtis;  and,  outside  of  the  country,  with 
Thomas  Hughes,  Lord  Houghton,  Sir  Charles  W.  Dilke, 
and  others  prominent  as  writers  and  politicians  in  England 
and  France.  He  seemed  to  have  the  faculty  of  attracting 
to  him  men  of  ideas  and  power,  and  he  in  turn  was  attracted 
by  them. 

Among  the  Penn  Monthly  jottings  of  the  year  just  ended 
are  to  be  found  discriminating  sketches  of  Hans  Christian 
Andersen,  Andrew  Johnson,  Gerrit  Smith,  Horace  Binney, 
a  lawyer  pur  et  simple,  and  Benjamin  R.  Curtis,  with  many 
other  articles  that  show  a  more  confident  power  in  the  discus 
sion  of  national  politics.  His  article  upon  Mr.  Binney,  which 
fitly  closes  what  he  has  already  written  of  him,  ends  thus : 

"  The  future  critic  of  our  institutions  glancing  through 
the  list  of  obscure  and  sometimes  ignoble  names  which 
Pennsylvania  has  sought  to  honor,  will  wonder  why  men 
like  Sergeant,  and  Meredith,  and  Binney  were  never  made 
governors,  or  chief  justices,  or  secretaries  of  the  United 
States,  and  will  see  in  that  fact,  perhaps,  one  explanation 
of  the  smallness  of  her  influence  on  the  country,  in  com 
parison  with  that  of  South  Carolina,  or  Virginia,  or  New 
England.  '  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them ;'  by  the 
worth  and  character  of  their  men  cities  and  commonwealths 
are  rightly  to  be  judged.  More  than  one  Bostonian  has 
become  famous  because  of  his  surroundings.  Horace  Bin 
ney  was  great  in  spite  of  his.  But  now  that  he  is  dead, 
Philadelphia,  perhaps,  will  appreciate  what  manner  of  man 
he  was,  and  realize,  when  too  late,  that  she  will  probably 
never  again  possess  or  lose  so  great  a  citizen." 


134  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

This  memorable  Centennial  year  of  1876  was  calculated 
to  awake  deep  thoughts  in  many  breasts.  In  a  "  leader" 
written  for  the  New  Year's  number  of  the  Philadelphia 
Times,  which  shows  how  he  felt  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Brown 


''But  what  has  been  our  moral  and  political  growth ?  We  are 
more  intelligent  generally  than  we  were  a  hundred  years  ago.  We 
are  richer,  more  powerful,  more  skilful,  more  learned,  more  enlight 
ened  ;  but  are  we  a  better  people?  Are  our  merchants  more  public- 
spirited,  our  lawyers  more  patriotic,  our  men  of  capital  less  selfish, 
our  politicians  purer  and  less  partisan  ?  Do  we  choose  for  rulers 
the  best  men  in  each  community?  Is  it  still  an  honor  to  serve  the 
people  and  the  State  ?  Does  the  office  seek  the  man,  and  political 
power  rest  only  in  tried  and  trusted  hands?  Are  our  cities  better 
governed  than  they  were  in  earlier  days?  Does  the  public  service 
draw  out  the  best  talent  and  character,  and  open,  as  it  once  did, 
careers  of  usefulness  and  honor  to  the  worthiest  citizens?  Are 
public  duties  more  faithfully  discharged  ?  Are  the  liberties  of  the 
people  guarded  with  more  jealous  eyes?  Is  the  national  honor 
dearer  to  us  than  it  used  to  be?  Or  is  it  true  that  we  have  not 
striven  to  grow  better ;  that  we  have  been  content  to  praise  the 
past  with  fulsome  eulogy  and  then  forget  it ;  that  we  have  turned 
from  the  examples  of  our  fathers  and  devoted  our  energies  to  the 
service  of  ourselves ;  that  we  have  constantly  sacrificed  the  common 
good  to  private  gain ;  that  in  our  hunger  for  wealth  and  petty  power 
we  have  so  systematically  neglected  the  simplest  public  duties,  that 
politics  are  at  last  synonymous  with  vice,  and  statesmanship  with 
incapacity ;  that  office  has  become  too  often  the  avenue  to  dishonor, 
and  political  power  the  path  to  infamy?" 

These  questions  poured  out  with  impetuousness  show  the 
thoughts  that  were  boiling  in  his  mind.  He  had  outgrown 
the  partisan,  and  had  caught  the  spirit  of  the  time  and 
become  national  in  his  aims.  For  a  time  the  law,  that 
"  most  jealous  mistress,"  lost  its  hold  on  him.  Charles 
Sumner  at  about  the  same  period  of  life  wrote  to  one  of 


A  REPUBLICAN  OF  THE  ANTIQUE   TYPE.        135 

his  friends:  "For  myself  I  become  more  wedded  to  the 
law  as  a  profession  every  day  that  I  study  it.  Politics  I 
begin  to  loathe ;  they  are  of  a  day,  but  the  law  is  of  all 
time."  It  was  not  so  \vith  Mr.  Brown.  He  was  more 
absolutely  interested  in  politics  than  in  law.  He  was  irre 
sistibly  led  to  take  up  a  political  career  because  he  had  in 
him  the  root  of  larger  things  than  of  a  mere  professional 
life.  He  might  be  called,  if  such  an  expression  were 
allowed,  a  classic  Republican.  He  made  (a  better  wray 
still)  a  party  to  himself.*  But  he  seemed  to  be  born  with 
principles  of  a  hundred  years  ago.  Considering  his  youth 
and  social  environment,  he  was  singular  in  retaining  amid 
modern  culture  some  of  the  rugged  sentiments  of  an  older 
type  of  American  republicanism.  One  of  these  was  rev 
erence.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  he  could  have 
mingled,  without  one  shadow  of  incongruity,  in  any  con 
gregation  of  serious-visaged  New  England  pilgrims  in 
their  plain  "  meeting-house"  on  top  of  Plymouth  hill,  or 
have  kept  hushed  silence  in  an  assembly  of  old-fash 
ioned  Pennsylvania  Quakers,  waiting  for  the  moving  of 
the  spirit,  or  have  sat  in  the  grave  and  courtly  company  of 
our  early  Constitution- makers  in  "Independence  Hall." 
His  Puritan  blood  would  not  yield  to  much  of  the  so- 
called  progress  of  the  day  which  sneers  at  ancient  customs. 
He  was  conservative  in  his  principles  though  radical  in 
his  measures.  He  was  too  earnest  to  be  greatly  swayed 
by  fashions.  Though  a  product  of  the  times  he  lived  in, 
yet  he  "  carried  a  measure  in  himself,"  independently  of  the 
opinions  of  others.  There  was  not  in  his  manners  that 

*  "  Si  ch'  fia  te  a  bello 
Averti  fatta  parte  per  te  stesso." 
La  Divina  Commedia :  Paradiso,  Canto  xvii.  t.  24. 


136  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

familiarity  which  breeds  contempt.  He  knew  the  distinc 
tion  between  things  God  had  made  honorable  and  those  he 
had  made  base.  He  recognized  law,  or  the  principle  of 
authority  founded  on  right.  He  was  sturdy  in  such  primi 
tive  notions  as  honoring  parents,  showing  deference  to  the 
aged,  paying  respect  to  office  and  to  religion.  This  reverent 
spirit  of  which  we  speak  was  partly  a  matter  of  taste,  but 
more  of  principle.  Delightfully  genial  as  he  was  in  society, 
reminding  one  of  Anthony  Trollope's  description  of  George 
Lewes  as  a  companion,  and  leaving  behind  him  no  equal 
for  an  hour's  chat,  there  was  still  something  about  him  of 
the  antique.  He  would  go  to  a  certain  length  only  with 
the  custom  of  the  day,  and  he  halted  in  firm  but  modest 
protest  at  whatever  offended  a  manly  sense  of  honor. 

Another  of  his  old-time  sentiments  was  patriotism.  This 
was  his  passion.  He  fed  this  sentiment  in  his  thoughts  like 
a  sacred  flame.  Literature,  poetry,  travel,  did  not  satisfy 
him ;  he  had  the  discontent  of  one  seeking  his  work.  There 
was  a  duty  to  his  country  that  called  him.  His  political 
life  fell  upon  times  of  anxiety  and  dreariness,  when  the  old 
spirit  burned  low  on  the  altar.  He  had  to  be  a  reformer 
in  order  to  be  a  patriot.  The  two  streams  of  tendency  had 
met  in  strife.  Never  was  there  a  time  when  good  political 
leaders  were  more  in  demand.  A  short  time  before,  mili 
tary  chiefs  were  needed.  Young  Napoleon  was  the  cry. 
Now,  statesmen,  or,  if  the  word  be  too  large,  honest  politi 
cians,  are  the  want.  Our  country,  though  young  among 
nations,  is  passing  through  a  time  of  development,  which,  if 
not  betokening  weakness  in  its  constitutional  principles,  nor 
giving  proof  of  inherent  disease  in  the  body-politic,  is  show 
ing  signs  of  an  enormous  strain  put  upon  its  political  system 
by  new  emergencies,  and  the  necessity  of  a  much  broader 
and  more  skilful  adaptation  of  its  principles  of  govern- 


AS  A   REFORMER.  137 

ment  to  these  crises.  The  nation  is  no  longer  "in  its 
gristle."  It  feels  growing  pains.  It  is  fast  maturing.  It 
has,  at  all  events,  outgrown  its  babyhood,  and  perhaps  its 
first  youth,  and  is  entering  upon  its  manhood,  with  man 
hood's  burdens  and  perils.  The  time  of  tutelage  is  replaced 
by  the  time  of  action.  Reared  in  rustic  seclusion,  our 
country  is  now  introduced  into  the  family  of  nations,  to 
take  its  position  and  do  its  work,  and  is  also  beginning  to 
experience  the  seductive  influence  of  Old- World  civiliza 
tion  and  ideas.  Europe  is  pouring  its  myriads  upon  us  of 
those  whose  characters  and  opinions  are  irrevocably  shaped 
in  anti-republican  moulds.  The  Corinthian  brass  which 
we  hope  will  be  the  result,  is  now  in  a  state  of  violent 
fusion  of  its  various  elements.  The  end  of  all  is,  that  in 
the  present  transition  period  the  unity  of  the  national  idea 
is  undergoing  change.  Greatly  diverse  forces  are  rushing 
in,  and  it  is  a  time  of  danger. 

"  The  juggler's  hand  is  in  the  ballot-box, 
While  office  wins  by  tricks." 

Old  ideals  shine  less  and  less  clear.  Republican  faith 
grows  dimmer  and  dimmer.  Even  as  the  primitive  sim 
plicity  of  the  Christian  faith  was  gradually  lost  under  the 
influence  of  materialistic  forms,  so  the  pure  republican  idea 
is  obscured.  The  moral  tone  of  the  nation  is  also  lowered. 
The  germinant  truth  of  self-government,  moral  in  essence, 
has  been  opposed  by  an  uprising  immoral  custom,  and  powers 
of  evil  let  loose  by  the  immense  expansion  of  the  material 
prosperity  of  the  country,  are  assailing  the  country's  life. 
Our  nation  at  present  has  more  to  fear  from  internal  de 
moralization  than  from  any  external  foe.  The  love  of 
gain  is  the  root  of  all  popular  as  well  as  personal  evil. 
Wherever  there  is  gold,  though  guarded  like  the  Nibe- 

10 


138  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

lungen  treasures,  there  is  the  hissing  and  writhing  of  office- 
seekers.  The  history  of  political  reform  in  this  country  is 
that  of  a  small  and  determined  group  of  men  who  have 
entered  upon  the  disheartening  labor  of  delivering  the 
nation  from  the  evils  of  official  corruption.  It  needs  some 
element  of  the  heroic  to  carry  on  such  a  work.  Charles 
Kingsley  said,  "  We  are  growing  more  and  more  comfort 
able,  frivolous,  pleasure-seeking,  money-making ;  more  and 
more  utilitarians ;  more  and  more  mercenary  in  our  politics, 
in  our  morals,  in  our  religion ;  thinking  less  of  honor  and 
duty,  and  more  of  loss  and  gain.  I  am  born  in  an  unheroic 
time.  You  must  not  ask  me  to  become  heroic  in  it."  True 
reformers  have  had,  so  to  speak,  to  take  their  life  in  their 
hands.  They  have  had  to  assault  those  powerful  organiza 
tions  which,  in  the  strong  language  of  the  North  American 
Review,  "  rob  the  people  annually  to  the  tune  of  millions 
and  tens  of  millions,  through  its  whiskey  rings,  its  Indian 
rings,  its  custom-house  rings,  its  railroad  rings,  and  other 
legalized  machinery  which  it  manipulates."  The  tide  sets 
strongly  towards  a  reckless  development  and  waste  of  our 
national  resources  instead  of  steady  reform  and  economy. 
The  theory  is  present  aggrandizement  instead  of  future 
permanent  prosperity.  It  is  the  doctrine  of  spoils,  of  the 
sale  of  offices,  of  bad  faith  in  government  agents,  of  par 
tisan  interference  in  the  business  and  patronage  of  gov 
ernment,  of  the  betrayal  of  sacred  trusts,  of  the  farming 
of  the  highest  civil,  educational,  and  religious  interests 
for  purposes  of  gain,  and  of  social  corruption.  While 
many  of  the  charges  against  public  men  have  been  mani 
festly  false,  yet  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  dead  apathy 
and  actual  obstruction  in  regard  to  true  reform  in  civil 
matters  of  those  who  hold  power  in  Congressional  and 
governmental  circles.  There  is  too  much  government. 


AS  A  REFORMER.  139 

There  are  too  many  offices,  too  many  incumbents  in  gov 
ernment  pay,  who  might  earn  their  livelihood  in  private 
life  and  add  something  to  the  country's  strength.  Above 
all,  honest  and  able  men  are  wanted, — political  leaders 
who  will  not  rely  on  expedients,  but  principles,  who  regard 
the  future  results  of  political  opinions,  who  do  not  look  so 
much  to  party  success  as  to  national  existence,  who  model 
themselves  on  Alexander  Hamilton  rather  than  Aaron 
Burr.  Abraham  Lincoln,  with  all  his  shrewdness  as  a 
keen-sighted  Western  politician  and  rail-splitter,  believed 
in  the  old  ideas  of  right,  honesty,  and  freedom.  The  pro 
gress  of  liberty  was  not  a  catchword  with  him.  Henry 
Armitt  Brown,  though  a  young  politician,  was  building  him 
self  upon  true  models.  He  was  a  man  of  uncorrupted  life. 
As  was  said  of  another,  "  of  a  simple,  frank,  unconscious 
character,  he  had  in  him  the  possibility  of  heroic  action." 
He  was  courageous  without  making  a  display  of  it.  Seek 
ing  boldly  for  mastery,  he  still  followed  Edmund  Spenser's 

words : 

"  In  vain  he  seeketh  others  to  suppress 
Who  hath  not  learned  himself  first  to  subdue." 

And  he  was  like  one  of  Spenser's  own  heroes, 

"  For  he  loathed  leasing  and  base  flattery, 
And  loved  simple  truth  and  steadfast  honesty." 

Mr.  Brown  did  not  confess  to  "  the  new  gospel  of  non- 
reform."  He  believed  that  the  rational  basis  of  government 
was  moral,  was  laid  on  individual  rights,  and  that  its  object 
was  the  best  good  of  society.  Where,  therefore,  there  ex 
isted  a  civil  abuse,  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  attack  it. 
This  was  an  instinctive  feeling.  He  had  an  intuitive  dis 
satisfaction  with  whatever  was  wrong  in  society.  He  nat 
urally  allied  himself  with  reform.  He  began  at  once  to 


140  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

act  with  that  party  of  uncompromising  men  who  were 
almost  hopelessly  in  the  minority.  He  accepted  the  Amer 
ican  theory  of '"  the  omnipotence  of  a  platform/'  and  he 
prepared  himself  for  a  life-long  contest  with  demagogism. 
He  felt  deeply,  deeply,  as  he  often  expressed  it,  the  de 
plorable  condition  of  public  morals,  of  public  and  private 
faithlessness,  of  social  and  civil  mismanagement.  The 
great  questions  of  labor  and  capital,  of  poor-relief,  of 
socialism  and  communism,  of  the  finances,  of  free-trade 
and  national  credit,  were  seething  in  his  mind.  It  was  for 
educated  men  with  educated  wills  to  take  up  these  ques 
tions.  "Politics  as  a  profession,"  and  "the  scholar  in 
politics,"  he  often  said,  were  phrases  he  cared  little  about, 
but  the  times  were  perilous  and  his  country  needed  her 
best  men, — "men  of  clear  intellects,  strong  convictions, 
high  purposes,  and  honest  minds."  The  questions  before 
the  country  were  not  to  be  settled  by  the  mob  or  by  a 
happy  chance.  They  were  the  most  difficult  and  compli 
cated  of  questions,  even  intellectually  viewed.  Such  things 
would  not  right  themselves.  He  held  that  society  needed 
reconstruction  in  some  of  its  first  principles.  Men  should 
be  taught  to  "  mend  their  manners,  and  to  cultivate  their 
own  free  will  as  the  arbiter  of  their  own  destiny."  He 
felt  the  need  of  "new  noblenesses,  new  generosities,  new 
conceptions  of  duty,  and  how  duty  should  be  done."  He 
would  set  his  face  like  a  flint  against  the  public  decadence, 
and  call  for  the  making  of  a  new  order,  with  fresh  blood 
in  it,  bold  thoughts,  culture  directed  by  patriotic  purposes. 
He  believed  that  we  must  have  good  government,  and  that 
the  one  intolerable  thing  in  this  country  is  anarchy. 

We  hasten  to  speak  of  the  Presidential  campaign.   When 
it  had  fairly  opened  Mr.  Brown  was  early  in  the  field,  and, 


"OJV  THE  STUMP."  141 

although  lie  had  been  disappointed  in  the  nomination  of  a 
candidate  other  than  his  own,  he  accepted  with  heartiness 
the  choice  which  had  been  made  by  the  Republican  party, 
and  girded  himself  to  the  task  of  helping  on  Mr.  Hayes's 
election  as  a  man  "  who  had  rather  be  right  than  be  Presi 
dent,"  and  one  also  pledged  to  reform  views.  To  show 
how  his  efforts  were  estimated,  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Cincinnati  Convention  has,  in  so  many  words,  publicly  de 
clared  that  no  one  Eastern  man  did  more  at  the  West  to  in 
sure  Hayes's  election  to  the  Presidency  than  Henry  Armitt 
Brown.  His  labors  were  chiefly  concentrated  in  Ohio  and 
neighboring  States.  Perhaps  nothing  could  give  a  livelier 
account  of  his  "  stumping  tour"  than  the  following  extract 
from  one  of  his  familiar  letters,  dated  November  6,  1876  : 

"  It  is  the  eve  of  the  most  important  election  that  has  taken  place 
in  this  country  for  many  years.  I  reached  home  last  night  after  my 
third  journey  since  September  24.  On  that  day  I  left  town  for  the 
West,  remaining  till  the  12th  of  October.  On  the  17th  I  started 
again,  and  was  absent  till  the  23d.  On  the  27th  I  spoke  in  Burling 
ton,  and  on  last  Tuesday — the  31st — I  began  my  last  pilgrimage.  I 
made  six  speeches  in  Ohio ;  seven  in  Indiana ;  one  in  Wilmington, 
Delaware ;  one  in  Burlington,  New  Jersey  ;  and  eight  in  Pennsyl 
vania  ;  a  total  of  twenty-three ;  and  have  been  engaged  either  in 
speaking,  or  travelling  for  that  purpose,  thirty-three  days  out  of  the 
forty-three  since  September  23. 

"  I  must  have  spoken  to  a  great  many  thousand  people  in  that  time, 
for  my  smallest  meeting  must  have  numbered  six  hundred,  and  from 
that  figure  they  ran  up  to  ten  thousand  and  twelve  thousand.  I 
was  fortunate  in  my  associates  as  well  as  in  sometimes  being  alone. 
In  Ohio  I  held  three  meetings  with  Mr.  James  Tanner,  of  New 
York,  and  two  by  myself.  In  Indiana  I  spoke  five  times  with  Sen 
ator  Morton  (though  he  held  the  afternoon  and  I  the  evening  ones) ; 
once  with  General  Harrison,  the  candidate  for  governor ;  and  once 
(to  a  torchlight  procession)  with  Governor  Woodford,  of  New  York, 
and  Mr.  Kasson,  member  of  Congress  from  Iowa.  Here  I  had  Mr. 
Brosius  of  Lancaster,  for  a  colleague  at  Scranton,  Pittston,  and 


142  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

Bloomsburg ;  and  Major  "Wilson  Norris  was  with  me  at  Easton ;  but 
at  Burlington,  Wilmington,  Gettysburg,  York,  Chambersburg,  and 
Carlisle,  I  was  alone.  My  shortest  speech  was  half  an  hour,  my 
longest  two  hours  and  a  half,  and  generally  I  consumed  more  than 
an  hour  and  a  half  of  my  hearers'  patience  and  time.  I  mention  all 
these  things  to  show  you  how  much  I  have  gone  into  the  fight  which 
comes  to  an  end  to-day,  and  it  may  perhaps  excuse  me  in  your  eyes 
for  writing  so  little  to  you  within  the  past  two  months. 

"  I  have  read  your  letters  to  P.  and  myself,  acknowledging  the 
speech  sent  from  Columbus,  and  K.'s  of  a  similar  date.  As  for  the 
reported  speech,  I  can  only  say  that  I  knew  you  would  want  to  see 
it  and  would  judge  it  leniently,  but  it  was  hardly  up  to  the  oppor 
tunity  I  expected  to  have,  and  my  later  speeches  were  very  much 
better  in  all  respects.  I  have  learned  many  arts  and  wrinkles  in 
this  long  campaign.  As  for  the  general  result,  I  can  hardly  venture 
a  prediction,  although  prophecies  of  defeat  are  liberally  made  on 
every  side.  Long  before  this  meets  your  eye  we  shall  both  know 
the  result,  and  prophecy  is  useless.  But  I  think  that  the  Republi 
cans  are  going  to  be  beaten.  The  canvass  has  been  shamefully  mis 
managed  by  the  *  regulars'  and  *  machine-men'  of  the  party,  who 
insisted  on  carrying  it  on  in  their  own  way.  Instead  of  bringing 
the  best  men  to  the  front  and  fighting  the  battle  on  Hayes's  letter 
of  acceptance,  they  preferred  to  believe  that  it  was  won  without!  a 
struggle,  before  a  shot  had  been  fired,  and  when  they  did  wake  up 
it  was  very  late  in  the  day.  Bristow,  Schurz,  Evarts,  and  men  like 
them  have  done  their  utmost,  and  made  a  gallant  fight.  My  own 
position  is  clear  enough.  I  have  supported  Hayes  because  I  believe 
him  to  be  honest  and  sincere.  I  am  in  the  party  and  yet  not  of  it, 
and,  personally,  men  like  me  may  be  more  benefited  by  its  failure  than 
by  its  success.  The  time  may  then  come  when  we  shall  be  needed. 
As  long  as  the  party  continues  to  enjoy  unbroken  power  such  men 
as  I  are  treated  with  no  consideration,  and  indeed  little  respect. 
But  I  earnestly  hope  to  see  Hayes  elected.  I  saw  him  several  times 
when  at  Columbus.  He  is  an  educated,  cultivated  gentleman,  and 
his  wife  is  a  charming  woman.  We  had  much  pleasant  conversa 
tion,  and  if  the  thing  turn  out  as  I  fear  it  will,  I  shall  feel  personal 
regret  and  disappointment.  But  I  have  learned  to  take  political 
defeats  philosophically,  and  shall  accept  this  as  I  did  McClure's 
and  Bristow' s, — with  serenity  and  composure.  But  if  we  defeat  the 


"  ON  THE  STUMP."  143 

Democrats,— who  in  little  persons  have  been  too  large  for  their 
clothing  for  a  week  past,  and  in  larger  ones  have  been  unendurable 
from  their  boasting  and  noise, — I  shall  lift  up  a  sound  of  rejoicing 
that  shall  be  heard  afar. 

"  I  could  write  you  a  column  a  mile  long  of  my  Western  experi 
ences.  Such  things  as  this  I  saw  :  imagine  a  little,  new  town,  per 
haps  ten  years  old,  its  houses  common,  its  streets  full  of  dust. 
Through  the  streets  pours  an  unceasing  procession  of  wagons,  car 
riages,  carts,  buggies,  and  horsemen,  with  a  mass  of  pedestrians  on 
both  its  flanks.  Many  of  the  wagons,  etc.,  are  decorated  with 
colored  muslin,  flowers,  flags,  and  evergreens.  Young  girls  dressed 
in  white,  with  tri-colored  scarfs  and  garlands  of  country  flowers,  fill 
them.  Youths  in  a  sort  of  improvised  uniform  ride  in  the  crowd  in 
companies.  Here  there  is  a  huge  wagon  filled  with  girls,  who  go 
by  singing,  while  from  an  elevated  place  in  the  centre  a  young 
woman,  gotten  up  in  spangled  dress  as  a  Goddess  of  Liberty,  waves 
a  flag  or  banner.  There  a  log  cabin  with  live  'coons  on  top,  and 
corn  and  pumpkins  hanging  from  the  eaves,  is  drawn  along  on 
wheels,  while  two  fellows  dressed  up  are  at  the  door, — one  as  an  old 
woman  knitting,  the  other  a  man  chopping  wood.  Every  sort  of 
decoration  and  device  is  resorted  to,  and  the  ingenuity  and -versatility 
of  the  people  are  remarkable.  At  length  the  procession  reaches  a 
grove,  where  it  winds  about  a  speaker's  stand  built  between  four 
trees,  and  there  in  a  little  while,  seated  in  a  chair, — for  his  legs  are 
paralyzed, — Senator  Morton  talks  to  a  countless  multitude  for  two 
hours  or  more.  In  the  evening  I  speak  to  them  as  long  from  the 
same  place,  by  the  light  of  torches  ;  or,  if  the  night  be  stormy,  in 
the  court-house  or  town-hall. 

"  General  Harrison,  our  candidate,  who  ought  to  have  been 
elected,  is  a  gentleman  of  ability  and  character, — a  grandson,  too, 
of  old  Tippecanoe.  Hence,  of  course,  the  log  cabins  and  'coons, 
which  will  remind  you  of  the  campaign  of  1840.  Here  are  some 
facts  to  interest  you.  There  were  made  during  the  last  week  of  the 
campaign  in  Indiana,  by  gentlemen  from  all  parts  of  the  country, 
— invited  by  the  State  committee, — eight  hundred  and  thirty-eight 
speeches  in  each  of  the  counties  of  the  State.  Those  made  by  candi 
dates  or  volunteers  were  too  numerous  to  be  counted.  At  one  place 
the  crowd  that  came  to  hear  Governor  Morton — but  remained  to 
hear  us  both — was  estimated  to  be  twelve  thousand,  and  at  Indian- 

* 


144  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

apolis  the  torchlight  procession  had  five  thousand  torches  in  line, 
many  of  them  borne  by  lawyers  and  merchants  and  business  men  of 
standing ;  our  carriage,  drawn  by  four  horses,  was  escorted  by  about 
three  hundred  cavalry,  or  mounted  torch-bearers,  and  through  the 
street  of  the  city  we  moved  in  the  glare  of  continuous  fireworks. 
When  I  rose  to  speak  afterwards  at  the  base-ball  grounds,  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  overlooked  a  lake  of  fire  in  which  ten  thousand  red- 
shirted  men  were  striving  to  keep  afloat. 

"  In  this  State  the  features  of  the  campaign  are  tamer ;  but  at 
Gettysburg  I  had  an  enormous  meeting  and  a  very  enthusiastic  one. 
Anthony  Higgins  presided  at  Wilmington  in  the  opera-house, 
which  was  packed.  L.  and  P.  and  P.  went  down  with  me,  and  Ave 
dined  at  Tony's  bachelor  quarters,  and  supped  after  my  speech  at 
a  friend's, — Mr.  Buck's.  At  Burlington  I  spoke  to  a  crowd  packed 
into  the  old  lyceum,  such  as  neither  Signor  Blitz  nor  Dr.  Valentine 
nor  Mungandaus,  the  Chippewa  chieftain,  ever  drew  ;  and  when  I 
spoke  of  what  I  had  seen  on  the  stage  on  which  I  stood,  and  de 
scribed  the  latter  scalping  his  fallen  enemy,  and,  amid  a  profuse 
spilling  of  red-flannel  blood,  braining  him  with  a  brand-new  toma 
hawk  purchased  for  the  occasion  at  Page  &  Thomas's,  and  decorated 
with  eagle  feathers  wrung  from  a  turkey  that  might  have  hung  in 
state  in  the  old  market-house  in  Union  Street,  many  a  man  in  the 
audience  remembered  things  he  had  not  thought  of  perhaps  for 
twenty  years.  So  much,  then,  for  this  matter  of  the  stump.  I  know 
you  will  be  amused  to  hear  these  things." 

In  describing  one  of  his  Western  talks,  he  says :  "I 
delivered  last  night  a  speech  to  a  crowd  of  between  three 
and  four  thousand  in  the  Capitol  Square.  Of  course,  in 
the  actual  delivery  I  varied  it  with  remarks  and  '  stories/ 
which  are  omitted  in  the  report."  His  address  at  Columbus, 
Ohio,  September  26, 1876, — one  (as  he  said)  of  twenty-two, — 
would  serve  as  a  good  specimen  of  these  campaign  speeches. 
It  draws  the  lines  of  party  politics  with  bold  strokes.  It 
reviews  the  financial  question  acutely ;  the  political  situa 
tion  of  the  South  is  seriously  and  yet  candidly  treated; 
and,  lastly,  the  subject  of  governmental  reform  of  the  civil 


CONTEST  FOR   THE  PHILADELPHIA  MAYORALTY.    145 

service  is  discussed  in  a  way  that  convinces  one  that  the 
speaker  is  not  a  merely  theoretic  but  a  practical  reformer. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1877  the  Reformers  were 
again  at  work  concentrating  their  efforts  on  a  nomination  for 
the  mayoralty  of  Philadelphia.  Both  William  S.  Stokley 
and  Joseph  L.  Caven  were  prominent  and  honored  Repub 
licans,  but  the  latter  was  run  as  an  independent  candidate, 
sustained  by  Republicans,  Democrats,  Liberals,  and  all 
shades  of  Reformers.  He  had  made  a  decided  record 
against  municipal  extravagance  and  corruption,  and  had 
done  faithful  work  in  building  up  a  powerful  public  senti 
ment  in  favor  of  retrenchment,  economy,  and  a  general 
reform  in  finance  and  the  public  service.  A  great  meeting 
of  citizens  and  tax-payers  was  held  at  Horticultural  Hall, 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Reform  Club,  on  the  evening 
of  January  20,  1877,  William  Welsh,  Esq.,  in  the  chair. 
Several  gentlemen  spoke,  though  Mr.  Brown's  was  the  prin 
cipal  address  of  the  occasion,  and,  by  some  of  his  friends, 
was  considered  the  most  powerful  political  speech  he  ever 
made.  Its  closing  sentences  were  solemn  in  their  simple 
impressiveness : 

"  My  countrymen  :  '  Time  makes  no  pauses  in  his  march.'  The 
moments  are  swiftly  passing,  and  you  who  make  up  this  mighty 
multitude  will  presently  have  scattered  to  your  homes.  Great 
opportunities  come  but  once  and  stay  but  a  little  while.  Days 
quickly  make  the  weeks,  and  soon  this  battle  will  be  lost  or  won. 
Change  is  ever  going  on  about  us,  and  you  who  listen,  and  I  Avho 
speak,  shall  in  brief  time  pass  from  the  stage  on  which  we  are  to-day 
the  actors,  and  our  places  be  taken  by  our  own  children.  Let  it  not 
then  be  written,  that  while  the  sounds  of  your  great  festival  still 
lingered  in  the  air,  ere  yet  that  pleasant  city  which  Penn  founded, 
where  Jefferson  wrote,  and  Washington  lived  and  Franklin  died, 
had  filled  her  second  century,  self-government  was  already  an  out 
cast,  and  true  liberty  could  find  no  stone  to  pillow  her  head.  Let 


146  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

them  rather  say  that  then,  as  always,  in  every  crisis  of  her  history, 
though  leaders  were  weak  and  parties  wanting,  the  heart  of  the 
people  did  not  falter,  and  the  sons  of  those  who  had  so  often  pro 
tected  others  still  had  the  courage  to  protect  themselves." 

As  this  is  the  last  of  his  public  efforts  in  the  work  of 
municipal  reform,  it  should  be  emphatically  stated  that  its 
effect  upon  public  opinion  both  at  the  moment  and  onward 
was  great.  It  has  been  declared  by  a  prominent  public 
man  whose  opinion  is  of  great  weight,  that  the  local  Reform 
movement  in  Philadelphia  began  and  ended  with  Henry 
Armitt  Brown.  He  certainly  embodied  the  best  there  was 
in  it,  and  his  mantle  has  fallen  upon  no  successor.  Would 
that  his  example  might  continue  to  be  influential,  so  that 
he  might  be,  as  it  were,  the  founder  or  the  type  of  a  race 
of  politicians  in  this  country  who,  keeping  themselves  pure 
from  personal  aims,  might  make  politics  the  noblest  of 
sciences !  Then  something  like  a  broad  impulse  might  be 
given  to  public  affairs,  and  a  theory  of  national  govern 
ment  might  be  carried  out,  which  would  put  the  labored 
absolutistic  systems  of  a  Stein  or  a  Bismarck,  colossal  as 
they  are,  to  the  blush. 

During  these  busy  years  of  public  life  his  early  friends, 
and  his  college  friends  especially,  were  not  forgotten.  One 
of  these  during  this  period  came  to  Philadelphia  in  a  state* 
of  despondency  so  profound  that  it  ended  in  mental  de 
rangement,  or  something  nearly  bordering  upon  it,  so  that 
he  became  an  inmate  for  six  weeks  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Asylum.  During  that  time  Mr.  Brown  visited  him  con 
stantly,  sometimes  every  day,  talking  with  him,  encouraging 
him,  amusing  him,  fairly  lifting  him  out  of  his  dreadful 
condition  by  the  force  of  his  indomitable  affectionate  will, 
so  that  he  was,  mainly,  as  it  would  seem,  through  this  in 
strumentality,  restored  to  his  normal  state.  One  closely 


SPEECH  ENDORSING   HAYES'S  ADMINISTRATION.     147 

related  to  the  poor  sufferer,  during  this  trying  period  writes : 

"  As  one  of 7s  dearest  friends  I  thought  it  my  turn  to 

render  thanks  for  your  great  kindness  to  him.  We  all  feel 
most  tenderly  grateful  to  you,  and  deeply  appreciate  that 
noble  friendship  which  prompts  you  to  take  upon  yourself 

so  much  trouble  for  his  sake.    desires  me  most  heartily 

to  express  her  thanks  to  you  for  your  labor  and  success  in 
persuading  him  to  send  his  letter, — a  truly  '  great  thing7  for 
him  to  do,  and  no  one  else  could  have  induced  him  to  do  it. 
I  think  that  '  Harry  Brown'  is  the  only  link  which  binds 
him  to  what  is  pleasant,  and  to  life." 

At  a  meeting  called  by  the  Union  League  to  endorse  the 
administration  of  President  Hayes,  held  March  12, 1877,  Mr. 
Brown  made  a  short  speech,  in  the  course  of  which,  consid 
ering  his  political  status,  these  very  generous  words  occur : 

"  I  am  no  prophet,  and  political  prophecy  is  the  most  dangerous 
of  all.  But  I  have  no  fears  for  this  government  or  people.  I  am 
one  of  the  youngest  in  this  company,  but  I  have  seen  extraordinary 
things.  If  I  look  back  less  than  a  year  in  point  of  time,  I  behold 
enough.  I  have  seen  in  that  short  space  the  most  marvellous  dis 
plays  of  patriotic  spirit  and  common  sense.  I  have  seen  two  great 
parties  alike  demanding  a  safe  and  honorable  policy  in  their  plat 
forms,  and  expressing  in  their  candidates,  each  as  well  as  it  was 
able,  its  idea  of  Reform.  I  have  seen  a  long  and  heated  contest 
followed  by  four  months  of  uncertainty  and  doubt  as  to  who  should 
be  our  ruler  and  what  the  controlling  power  in  our  government.  I 
have  seen  a  free  people,  where  suffrage  is  universal  and  liberty  ab 
solute,  remain  tranquil  and  self-controlled  in  the  midst  of  things 
that  might  have  shaken  to  pieces  the  strongest  despotism.  I  have 
seen  forty  millions  of  freemen  intrusting  to  fifteen  individuals  the 
question  who  should  govern  them  for  four  years  to  come.  I  have 
seen  those  fifteen  persons  decide  by  a  majority  of  one  that  he  should 
be  chief  magistrate  who  claimed  to  be  chosen  by  the  smallest  ma 
jority  possible  in  the  electoral  college, — a  single  vote ;  and  those 
forty  millions  yield  a  perfect  obedience  to  the  law.  I  have  seen  that 


148  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

man,  standing  uncovered  in  the  presence  of  the  people,  declare  him 
self  their  servant  rather  than  his  party's, — the  lover  of  his  country 
rather  than  himself.  I  see  him  to-day,  in  the  Presidential  chair, 
proclaim  a  broad  and  generous  policy ;  a  brave,  benevolent,  consist 
ent  statesmanship,  fulfilling  the  definition  of  Edmund  Burke,  that 
he  is  the  true  statesman  who  '  unites  the  ability  to  improve  with  the 
disposition  to  preserve.'  " 

In  the  crisis  immediately  succeeding  the  election,  Mr. 
Brown,  with  other  prominent  politicians,  had  been  "inter 
viewed."  He  was  modest  in  giving  his  opinion,  but  while 
fully  prepared  to  support  a  legitimate  decision  either  way, 
he  was  decided  in  his  belief  that  Hayes  had  been  duly 
elected.  He  thought  that  both  parties  were  not  without 
blame,  that  no  man  or  party  could  afford  to  profit  by  a 
fraud,  and  that  parties  themselves  were  not  an  end,  but 
only  a  means  to  an  end, — the  prosperity  and  honor  of  the 
country.  The  laws  must  be  sustained  at  all  events.  The 
constitutional  forms  of  law  must  be  carried  out.  There 
must  be  a  conscientious  settlement  of  the  electoral  question. 
He  wished  the  electoral  college  were  abolished,  but  it  was 
not,  and  its  rules  must  be  implicitly  followed.  He  did  not 
fear  the  local  trouble  that  threatened  the  Presidential  in 
auguration.  A  system  which  could  stand  the  strain  it  was 
then  undergoing  could  stand  anything.  "  We  have  plenty 
of  patriots,"  he  said,  "if  we  have  few  statesmen,  and, 
after  all,  the  situation  doesn't  demand  statesmanship  as 
much  as  it  does  common  sense  and  self-control.  I  don't 
think  it  perilous,  because,  though  I'm  not  very  old,  Fve 
lived  long  enough  to  have  seen  an  abundance  of  those 
qualities  in  my  countrymen." 

These  activities  were  interrupted  by  another  visit  to 
Europe  in  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1877.  During  this 
journey  he  wrote  many  letters  for  the  newspapers,  in  which 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  THE  "PENNSYLVANIA."       149 

he  spoke  of  European  politics  and  described  prominent 
men  whom  he  saw.  One  of  these  letters  is  taken  up  with 
a  graphic  portraiture  of  Thiers ;  another  with  an  account 
of  a  French  election,  and  how  the  voting  is  done  in  Paris ; 
but  we  will  quote  from  these  letters  only  his  narrative  of 
an  eventful  and  perilous  passage  home  on  the  steamship 
"  Pennsylvania/'  during  the  early  days  of  November. 

"  I  think  it  worth  while  to  try  and  give  the  Times  some  account 
of  the  recent  remarkable  voyage  of  the  '  Pennsylvania.'  We  left 
Liverpool  about  4  P.M.  on  the  31st  of  October.  The  night  before 
had  been  dark  and  stormy,  and  when  evening  fell,  as  we  came  out 
of  the  Mersey,  the  prospect  was  not  favorable.  But  the  next  day 
broke  pleasantly  enough,  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  western  sky 
as  we  steamed  out  of  Queenstown  harbor  and  along  the  Irish  coast 
to  suggest  the  dangers  that  were  in  store  for  us.  Friday,  the  2d  of 
November,  was  a  pleasant  day,  and  we  spent  most  of  the  time  on 
deck.  Our  company  was  not  a  large  one.  Exclusive  of  the  servants 
and  children,  I  think  we  numbered  but  twenty-five.  Friday  night 
when  I  went  to  bed  we  were  steaming  along  at  eleven  or  twelve 
knots,  with  the  sky  partially  overcast  and  a  stiff  but  not  unfavorable 
breeze.  During  the  darkness  we  encountered  the  storm.  I  thought 
the  old  ship  was  rolling  rather  heavily  when  I  awoke  on  the  morn 
ing  of  the  3d,  but  I  did  not  imagine  the  true  state  of  things.  Those 
who  had  been  on  deck  told  me  after  breakfast  that  it  was  stormy 
and  wet  up  there,  and  I  amused  myself  below.  About  three  o'clock, 
however,  I  concluded  to  go  up  and  take  a  look. 

"  The  sky  was  full  of  clouds,  angry  and  savage-looking,  though 
there  were  patches  of  blue  sky  to  be  seen,  and  through  one  of  them 
the  sun  was  shining  brightly.  But  the  wind  was  dead  ahead  and 
blowing  a  gale.  I  stuck  my  head  out,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  wind 
would  blow  it  off  my  shoulders.  The  sea  was  magnificent.  In  five 
previous  voyages  I  had  never  seen  it  so  high.  Great  waves,  longer 
than  the  ship,  and,  as  it  seemed  me,  higher  than  the  boats  on  her 
sides,  followed  one  another  swiftly,  tossing  their  white-caps  into 
spray  as  they  split  in  two  on  both  sides  of  us.  The  '  Pennsylvania' 
would  rise  up  like  a  living  creature  over  the  tops  of  the  highest, 
and  then  rush  down  into  the  boiling  valley  that  lay  between  them 


150  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

with  incredible  speed.  One  after  another  I  could  see  great  ridges  of 
water  approaching  us  at  a  terrible  rate  with  strange  regularity,  and 
each  time  as  they  struck  our  bow  the  ship  would  shake  herself  and 
make  a  rush  and  pass  over  them  in  safety.  I  hung  on  to  the  side 
of  the  door  and  watched  the  waves  break  at  the  bow,  and  sometimes 
come  rushing  back  over  the  deck,  with  intensest  interest.  Presently 
the  chief  officer,  Mr.  Dodge,  came  sliding  along,  and  stopped  for  a 
minute's  chat.  'A  heavy  westerly  gale,'  he  called  it,  and  '  a  very 
bad  sea,'  and  presently  he  slid  off  to  his  duty  and  I  went  down 
stairs  to  dinner.  Very  little  was  said  about  the  weather  at  the  meal, 
which  was  pleasant  enough  in  spite  of  the  rolling,  and  after  an 
evening  passed  in  chat  we  all  turned  in,  as  we  thought,  to  sleep. 
But  by  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  slumber  was  impossible.  The  motion 
was  a  combination  of  all  that  is  disagreeable  in  the  movement  of  a 
ship.  At  one  minute  the  vessel  rolled,  at  another  she  pitched,  now 
she  seemed  to  be  climbing  skyward,  and  in  an  instant  pitched  into 
an  abyss,  to  be  brought  up  suddenly  with  a  terrible  thump.  By 
midnight  I  felt  sure  that  the  sea  which  I  had  watched  with  such 
admiration  was  nothing  to  what  we  now  encountered.  Slowly  the 
hours  dragged  along,  and  we  struggled  through  them. 

"At  last  day  came,  and  with  it  an  increase  of  fury  in  the  storm. 
Of  course  there  was  no  going  on  deck  and  little  comfort  in  the 
1  social  hall,'  for  the  windows  and  doors  had  to  be  tightly  shut.  All 
day  we  watched  and  waited,  comforting  ourselves  with  the  thought 
that  so  furious  a  storm  could  not  last  many  hours,  but  the  wind  and 
waves  knew  better.  Sunday  evening  repeated  the  torments  of  the 
night  before,  but  about  midnight  the  wind  went  down  somewhat,  and 
Captain  Harris,  with  characteristic  thoughtfulness,  sent  word  to  the 
ladies  of  the  fact.  After  that,  for  a  few  hours,  almost  every  one 
slept  a  little ;  but  Monday  morning  broke  in  storm  and  disappoint 
ment.  As  if  it  had  only  been  resting  to  renew  the  attack  more 
furiously  than  ever,  the  gale  came  on  with  daybreak.  From  that 
time  until  sundown,  and  from  that  till  Tuesday  morning  and  all 
Tuesday  and  the  night  that  followed,  it  raged  with  fury.  On  Wed 
nesday  morning  it  had  long  ceased  to  be  a  gale  and  become  a  hurri 
cane.  The  wind  (they  estimated  on  the  bridge)  blew  with  a  velocity  of 
one  hundred  miles  an  hour,  and  the  sea  was  lifted  up  into  mountains. 
All  that  day  and  the  next,  until  Friday  morning,  the  9th  of  Novem 
ber,  it  blew  a  hurricane.  It  is  as  impossible  for  me  to  describe  those 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  THE  "PENNSYLVANIA." 

days  as  it  is  for  me  to  forget  them.  They  were  dark  and  terrible. 
From  morning  till  night,  from  sundown  until  daybreak,  for  six 
nights  and  days,  there  was  no  change.  As  one  looked  out  from  the 
windows  of  the  social  hall,  or  through  the  tightly-fastened  ports,  the 
scene  was  indescribably  awful.  Beneath  a  leaden  sky,  far  as  one 
could  see,  raged  the  tossing  ocean.  Without  a  lull  the  wind  howled 
and  hissed  through  the  rigging,  and  lashed  the  sea  into  a  mass  of 
foam.  In  every  direction,  on  all  sides,  the  waves  broke,  dashing  the 
spray  until  the  air  seemed  full  of  rain-like  clouds. 

"  So  the  stormy  days  crept  by  and  dragged  the  gloomier  nights 
after  them.  About  ten  o'clock  on  the  sixth  night, — Thursday, — 
when  all  hands  in  the  cabin  had  retired,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  watch 
for  daylight,  the  ship  gave  an  unusually  heavy  lurch  to  the  star 
board,  and  for  the  hundredth  time  shipped  a  heavy  sea.  In  a  second 
followed  a  crash  that  shook  her  from  stem  to  stern,  and  sounded  like 
a  thunderbolt.  It  was  made  up  of  three  distinct  sounds  in  one, — 
the  dull  fall  of  a  heavy  weight  on  the  deck,  the  splintering  and 
crushing  of  wood  and  glass,  and  the  pouring  of  a  large  stream  of 
water  into  the  cabin.  It  was  a  deafening,  terrifying  sound.  I 
bounded  into  the  saloon  and  beheld  a  memorable  sight.  Beside  my 
door  sat  a  lady  with  her  hands  clasped  together,  gasping  with  fear. 
Across  the  saloon  were  three  others  as  white  as  a  sheet,  in  various 
attitudes  of  alarm  ;  the  startled  face  of  one  of  the  men  appeared  at 
the  door  on  my  side  of  the  ship;  and  down  the  companion-way,  as 
the  vessel  rolled  to  port,  poured  a  huge  torrent  of  water.  In  a  mo 
ment  we  rolled  to  starboard,  the  stream  stopped  pouring  in  and 
dashed  furiously  against  the  tables  and  piano,  wetting  me  in  an  in 
stant  above  the  ankles,  and  splashing  to  the  ceiling.  Haifa  minute 
later  everybody  was  in  the  saloon, — no  one  had  apparently  undressed 
and  gone  to  bed, — and  for  a  little  while  we  were  busy  in  picking  up 
our  luggage  from  the  floors  of  the  cabins,  into  which  the  water  at 
once  penetrated.  The  unhappy  stewards  rushed  to  and  fro,  bailing 
out  and  mopping  up  the  water,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  wet  carpets 
were  taken  up  and  the  water  dried  from  the  floor,  the  broken  win 
dows,  through  which  the  water  had  come,  nailed  up  and  closed,  and 
nothing  remained  for  us  but  to  talk  the  thing  over  and  wait  for  day 
light.  I  must  say  that  it  was  a  plucky  company, — no  tears  were 
shed  and  no  hysterics  indulged  in  by  the  ladies,  and,  as  far  as  I  saw, 
every  man  was  quiet  and  ready  and  self-possessed.  But  it  certainly 


152  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

was  a  startling  incident,  coining  to  us  as  it  did  after  so  many  days 
and  nights  of  anxiety  and  apprehension. 

" '  We  had  taken  on  board,'  said  one  of  the  officers  to  me,  '  a 
hundred  seas  as  bad  as  that  on  that  day  alone,  but  they  struck  us 
fair.'  This  one  came  as  the  wind  began  to  fall  a  little  on  the  star 
board  quarter.  It  struck  the  right  end  of  the  bridge  and  carried 
away  the  canvas  covering,  broke  in  and  ruined  the  second  boat, 
lifted  the  third  boat  out  of  the  davits  and  hurled  it  into  a  thousand 
pieces  on  top  of  the  skylight  over  the  engines,  twisted  the  fourth 
boat  out  of  the  davits  (breaking  one  of  the  latter,  a  piece  of  ham 
mered  iron  four  and  a  half  inches  thick,  like  a  pipe-stem)  and 
smashed  it  to  bits  against  the  corner  of  the  social  hall,  breaking  two 
windows  and  letting  in  the  water,  and,  besides  damaging  two  other 
life-rafts,  tore  the  last  one  on  the  starboard  side  out  of  its  place  and 
laid  it  snugly  over  the  skylight  on  the  saloon.  Omitting  details,  this 
was  the  result  of  one  wave.  There  were  some  of  us  who,  as  we 
crawled  about  on  deck  next  day  and  witnessed  the  destruction, 
could  not  help  thinking  what  might  have  happened  to  us  had  any 
thing  in  the  steering  apparatus  broken  or  become  disarranged. 
When  Friday  morning  came  the  wind  had  fallen  greatly,  though 
the  sea  was  still  high,  and  we  had  some  music  in  the  cabin.  The 
storm  seemed  at  last  to  have  spent  its  force,  and  our  spirits  rose 
with  the  barometer.  About  ten  o'clock  we  dispersed,  the  ship  had 
begun  to  run  smoothly,  and,  for  one,  I  expected  to  get  a  nap,  the 
first  for  a  long  time.  All  had  become  quiet,  when  suddenly  the 
engine  stopped.  I  sprang  up  and  climbed  the  stairway.  'A  steamer 
is  signalling  us,'  said  a  fellow-passenger.  Looking  out,  I  saw  a 
curious  light  close  by  on  the  port  side,  and  then  hurried  down  for 
my  hat  and  overcoat,  for  it  was  wet  and  very  cold.  When  I  got  up 
again  in  a  minute  afterward  the  light  was  close  under  the  stern. 
'  It's  a  wreck,'  said  a  dozen  voices  in  the  darkness,  and  then  faintly 
through  the  blustering  storm  came  the  cry,  '  Steamer,  ahoy !' 

"  As  I  crept  along  the  deck,  feeling  my  way,  I  could  see  a  bright 
light  burning  close  to  the  water's  edge.  Captain  Harris  commanded 
silence,  and  called  in  stentorian  tones,  'Have  you  got  a  boat?'  No 
sound  came  back  but  the  roaring  of  the  wind,  and  the  light  grew 
fainter  and  more  distant.  'Close  to  the  water's  edge,'  'the  masts 
torn  out  of  her,'  '  a  big  wreck,'  passed  in  whispers  as  the  captain 
tried  to  make  her  out  with  the  glass, — and  we  stood  in  a  group  near 


THE   VOYAGE   OF  THE  "PENNSYLVANIA."       153 

the  wheel-house  watching  the  fast-fading  light.  Suddenly  it  disap 
peared,  suggesting  to  my  mind  a  horrible  possibility.  '  Call  for  a 
volunteer  crew,'  came  from  the  captain's  lips,  and  he  ran  forward  to 
the  bridge.  In  a  few  moments  the  wreck's  light  again  appeared, 
faint  and  flickering,  and  where  we  stood  holding  on  to  the  bulwarks 
we  could  hear  Captain  Harris's  voice  giving  orders  even  above  the 
whistling  of  the  wind.  In  a  few  moments  the  forward  boat  on  the 
starboard  side  swung  clear.  Mr.  Shackford,  the  second  officer,  and 
the  six  seamen  who  had  promptly  volunteered,  were  on  board ;  the 
order  was  given,  and  down  the  frail  thing  descended  with  them  into 
the  black,  seething  abyss  below.  For  an  instant  I  thought  they 
would  disappear  beneath  the  ship  as  she  rolled  heavily  over  on  them. 
But  the  next  they  were  tossed  in  the  air  as  high  as  the  bulwarks. 
A  faint  light  made  them  visible  to  us  as  they  pulled  for  their  lives. 
Once,  twice,  thrice,  as  we  watched  them,  they  were  sucked  back 
under  the  great  ship's  side,  as  if  doomed  to  be  crushed  beneath  her, 
but  at  last  a  huge  wave  caught  them,  and  away  they  went.  And 
Heaven  favored  that  gallant  crew,  and  Captain  Harris  understood 
his  business.  By  keeping  the  ship  in  motion  and  moving  her 
around  in  a  circle  he  got  to  leeward  of  the  wreck  again,  and  in 
about  an  hour  the  boat  came  sweeping  back  toward  us  again. 
Around  the  bow  she  swept  and  away  off  into  the  darkness,  whirled 
about  as  if  she  were  a  feather ;  at  last  they  managed,  after  several 
efforts,  to  catch  the  rope,  and  one  by  one  as  the  life-boat  rose  to  the 
sea  they  were  picked  out  and  set  firmly  on  deck  again.  They  had 
got  near  enough  to  hear  voices  on  the  wreck  cry,  '  Come  alongside.' 
"  No  one  had  asked  to  be  taken  off  nor  called  for  provisions,  and 
the  sea  ran  too  high  to  get  near,  so  Mr.  Shackford  answered  that  we 
would  lay  to  till  morning,  and  after  trying  to  communicate  further 
returned  to  the  '  Pennsylvania.'  I  pass  over  the  inconveniences  of 
the  night  that  followed.  Its  physical  discomforts  were  the  worst  of 
the  voyage,  as  we  lay  till  daybreak  rolling  slowly  to  and  fro  in  the 
trough  of  that  tremendous  sea.  At  last  the  long-delayed  morning 
began  slowly  to  break,  and  the  horrible  blackness  of  the  sea  and 
sky  gave  place  to  a  cold  and  cruel  gray.  But  with  the  hidden  sun 
the  wind  began  to  rise.  By  seven  o'clock  it  was  blowing  another 
gale,  and  the  impatient  sea  was  being  whipped  into  its  old  fury 
again.  There,  as  we  steamed  towards  her,  was  the  wreck,  a  trim, 
staunch-looking  bark  of  three  or  four  hundred  tons,  riding  the  waves 

11 


154  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMJTT  BROWN. 

buoyantly,  with  two  short  jury-masts  bearing  a  storm-sail,  and  hold 
ing  her  well  to  the  wind.  Except  for  the  disproportionate  shortness 
of  her  masts,  she  looked  to  my  landsman's  eye  all  right.  Two  or 
three  men  could  be  seen  on  deck,  and  the  smoke  that  came  out  of 
the  stove-pipe  in  the  cabin  roof  told  that  she  had  the  comfort  of  a 
fire.  But  we  could  do  no  more  than  see  her.  Help  her  we  could 
not.  No  boat  could  live  in  such  a  sea,  and  we  lost  our  fourth  boat 
in  the  attempt.  As  a  last  effort,  about  ten  o'clock,  Captain  Harris 
got  as  near  as  he  dared  go  in  such  a  sea,  and  launched  a  life-raft 
with  a  long  cable,  hoping  that  he  could  get  it  towards  the  wreck  by 
the  aid  of  the  sea.  But  repeated  efforts  availed  little,  and  by  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning  our  own  safety  compelled  us  to  head  to  sea. 
The  weather  thickened  up,  and  presently  we  lost  sight  of  the  unfor 
tunate  vessel.  Further  efforts  were  useless,  and  we  crept  slowly 
towards  the  westward. 

u  Such  was  this  memorable  voyage.  Of  the  severity  and  length 
of  these  storms  there  seemed  to  be  among  the  officers  but  one 
opinion.  Rarely  had  any  one  seen  so  fierce  a  gale,  never  so  bad  a 
sea,  and  the  way  both  lasted  was  beyond  precedent.  Had  the  '  Penn 
sylvania'  not  been  the  best  of  ships,  exceptionally  staunch  and  strong, 
and  from  her  peculiar  model  riding  the  waves  with  wonderful  buoy 
ancy, — and  had  she  not  been  commanded  and  officered  as  she  was  by 
men  of  great  experience  and  skill,  and  extraordinary  courage  and 
endurance,  her  career  would  undoubtedly  have  ended  in  those  words, 
'lost  at  sea,'  or  'never  heard  of,'  which  stand  against  the  names  of 
many  a  noble  ship,  and  are  the  curt  epitaph  of  many  a  gallant 
company.  Henceforth  these  words  will  have  for  me  a  new  signifi 
cance.  I  think  I  can  imagine  now,  perhaps,  some  of  those  unseen 
tragedies, — the  anxiety,  the  hope,  the  sudden  crash,  the  gallant 
struggles,  the  roaring  wind,  the  cruel,  overwhelming  sea,  the  wild 
confusion,  the  terror,  the  despair,  the  short  but  awful  agony.  Cer 
tain  it  is,  that  never  did  my  eyes  rest  on  a  pleasanter  sight  than 
when,  on  Thursday  morning  last,  I  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  '  Penn 
sylvania'  and  beheld  a  broad  and  noble  river  flowing  majestically  to 
the  sea  between  long  lines  of  low  and  level  shore,  and  before  me  the 
spires  and  steeples  of  a  placid  city  beginning  to  rise  out  of  the 
marshes  and  meadows  of  League  Island.  For  not  stately  London, 
nor  brilliant  Paris,  nor  quaint  old  Nuremberg,  not  the  green  fields 
and  woods  of  England,  nor  the  magnificent  scenery  of  the  Alps,  nor 


BURLINGTON  BI-CENTENNIAL  ADDRESS.         155 

all  the  hills  and  dales  that  lie  between,  could  offer  me  the  charms 
that  dwell  in  those  narrow  streets,  with  their  monotonous  rows  of 
formal,  pleasant  homes,  which,  but  a  week  before,  I  had  more  than 
once  thought  I  should  never  see  again." 

Mr.  Brown,  in  fulfilment  of  an  invitation  received  some 
time  before  his  visit  to  Europe,  immediately  after  his  return, 
quietly,  but  diligently,  set  himself  about  preparing  his 
Burlington  bi-centennial  Historical  Address.  His  labors 
and  investigations  were  indefatigable.  He  strove  to  com 
bine  amplitude  of  detail  with  accuracy,  and  no  hound  ever 
tracked  his  prey  more  unremittingly  than  he  followed  up 
an  historical  fact,  however  minute,  that  added  life  to  his 
history.  He  went  to  first  sources.  His  accustomed  seat 
in  an  alcove  of  the  Philadelphia  Historical  Society  Library 
is  pointed  out,  where  for  days  and  weeks  he  labored  in  the 
compilation  of  his  materials.  He  spared  himself  no  pains. 
He  read  extensively  and  yet  selected  with  severest  care. 
He  corresponded  widely  with  those  from  whom  he  could 
derive  the  least  information.  Days  of  incessant  research 
were  considered  by  him  as  not  lost  if  they  brought  but  the 
slightest  historic  matter  to  his  store.  Family  memorials  as 
well  as  public  documents  \vere  ransacked.  The  result  was 
something  of  rare  and  permanent  value. 

The  opening  services  of  the  occasion  are  thus  described 
in  the  Philadelphia  Weekly  Times  of  December  15,  1877 : 

"  The  old  Quaker  town  of  Burlington,  New  Jersey, 
celebrated  on  Thursday,  the  6th  of  December,  the  two 
hundredth  anniversary  of  its  formation.  The  morning 
opened  clear  and  cool.  The  river-banks  and  pine-lands 
gave  up  their  population,  and  Burlington's  own  seven 
thousand  people  let  it  be  known  that  they  could  act  the 
host  with  the  old-fashioned  Fourth  of  July  spirit.  The 
one  hundred  guns  sounded  faintly  in  the  dawn  because  a 


156  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

stiff  breeze  swept  up  the  curve  in  the  Delaware  and  bore 
inland  all  the  noise  of  the  early  morning.  Chimes  from 
St.  Mary's  and  all  the  steeples  of  the  academic  city  were 
half  drowned  by  the  flap  and  flutter  of  the  decorations 
which  stuck  around  everywhere,  from  stores,  dwellings, 
and  trees.  The  rallying-point  for  the  crowd  was  at  the 
intersection  of  the  two  wide  thoroughfares,  Broad  and 
Main  Streets,  and  when,  at  ten  o'clock,  General  E.  Burd 
Grubb,  the  marshal,  and  his  aides  brought  it  into  order, 
the  procession  was  formed  and  moved  out  of  Main  Street. 
Following  the  cavalcade  of  citizens  came  the  militia  com 
panies  of  Burlington,  Beverly,  Camden,  and  Mount  Holly, 
the  fire  companies  in  gorgeous  array,  and  a  number  of  civil 
societies.  Meanwhile,  the  crowd  enjoyed  itself  on  the 
sidewalks,  and  bands  of  young  men  in  fantastic  attire 
wandered  about  and  added  to  the  excitement  and  the 
racket.  The  church-bells  rang  out  more  clearly  above  the 
din  about  noon,  because  the  wind  blew  less  sharply,  and 
the  mid-day  salute  quickened  the  step  of  such  of  the  tramp 
ing  soldier  boys  as  were  in  earshot. 

"At  three  o'clock  the  commemorative  services  were 
begun  in  Birch's  new  opera-house.  Steady- going,  well-to- 
do  folks  of  Burlington,  Trenton,  Mount  Holly,  Beverly, 
Camden,  and  many  Philadelphians  formed  the  audience. 
On  the  stage  were  a  dozen  circles  of  distinguished  gentle 
men.  The  Right  Rev.  William  H.  Odenheimer,  Bishop 
of  Northern  New  Jersey,  sat  in  his  episcopal  robes  in  the 
chair  of  honor.  By  his  side  was  Vicar-General  George 
Herbert  Doane,  of  Newark,  and  behind  them  were  ex- 
Governor  Parker,  tall  and  sturdy,  ex-Governor  Newell, 
Congressman  J.  Howard  Pugh,  Hon.  John  F.  Babcock, 
a  score  of  well-known  clergymen,  and  members  of  the  State 
Legislature  and  the  Burlington  City  Council. 


BURLINGTON  BI-CENTENNIAL  ADDRESS.        157 

"  Bishop  Odenheimer  made  a  short  prayer.  A  musical 
piece  suggesting  the  heroism  of  the  early  Quaker  pioneers 
was  sung  by  the  Orpheus  Glee  Club,  and  the  president  of 
the  bi-centennial  committee,  Congressman  Pugh,  stepped 
forward.  The  address  of  the  day,  he  said,  belonged  to 
another  man,  one  pre-eminently  fitted  to  make  it,  yet  he 
would  congratulate  his  townsmen  upon  the  unity  of  inter 
est,  fervor,  and  enthusiasm  which  was  manifestly  charac 
teristic  of  the  occasion.  Dr.  Pugh  said :  ( And  now  here  is 
one  whom  we  claim  as  a  Burlington  boy,  for  most  of  the 
time  since  his  boyhood,  at  least,  he  has  made  his  summer 
home  with  us,  Henry  Armitt  Brown,  Esq.'" 

The  address  itself  must  be  estimated  upon  its  own 
merits.  After  its  delivery,  notices  eulogistic  and  letters 
congratulatory  poured  in.  We  give  a  few  of  these  letters, 
dated  two  or  three  months  later,  from  those  at  a  distance, 
whose  judgment  might  be  presumed  to  be  cooler,  in  ac 
knowledgment  of  printed  copies  of  the  address,  and  which 
naturally  find  place  here : 

"  BOSTON,  March  19,  1878. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  BROWN, — I  have  read  with  as  much 
delight  as  instruction  your  eloquent  and  noble  Burlington 
oration.  I  was  especially  impressed  with  the  passage  re 
lating  to  the  Quaker  petitioners  to  Parliament,  who  offered 
themselves  as  hostages  for  their  imprisoned  brethren.  I 
agree  with  you  in  thinking  it  one  of  the  most  pathetic 
instances  in  English  history.  But  the  whole  of  your  ad 
dress  is  admirable  in  spirit,  in  tone,  in  command  of  novel 
facts. 

"  Renewing  my  thanks  to  you  for  enabling  me  to  indulge 
in  the  luxury  of  reading  such  an  oration, 

"  I  remain,  very  sincerely  yours, 

"E.  P.  WHIPPLE." 


158  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"  BOSTON,  March  19,  1878. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  thank  you  for  the  pleasure  I  have 
had  in  reading  your  very  elaborate  and  interesting  oration. 
Plymouth  Rock,  we  shall  have  to  confess,  has  not  sent  forth 
all  the  heroes,  or  called  forth  all  the  eloquence.  I  only 
wish  that  as  much  knowledge,  as  much  taste,  as  much  lively 
description  could  be  found  in  all  the  addresses  in  which 
the  anniversaries  of  our  historical  epochs  are  commemorated. 
"  Believe  me,  my  dear  sir, 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  O.  W.  HOLMES." 

"  BOSTON,  March  25,  1878. 

"DEAR  MR.  BROWN, — I  thank  you  for  sending  me 
your  oration  on  the  '  Settlement  of  Burlington.' 

"  I  had  skimmed  it  over  in  the  newspaper,  but  I  have 
given  it  a  worthier  perusal  in  the  pamphlet. 

"  It  is  an  interesting  and  eloquent  discourse,  and  I  con 
gratulate  you  on   your  success.     I   hope   you  will   have 
spared  a  copy  for  our  Massachusetts  Historical  Society. 
"  Believe  me,  with  kind  regards  to  your  wife, 
"  Yours  very  truly, 

"ROBERT  C.  WINTHROP. 

"  P.S. — I  did  not  fail  to  observe  with  interest  the  classi 
cal  tribute  to  the  memory  of  your  father." 

"  OAK  KNOLL,  DANVERS,  MASS.,  March  26,  1878. 

"  HON.  H.  A.  BROWN. 

"DEAR  FRIEND, — I  have  read  with  great  satisfaction 
thy  instructive  and  eloquent  address.  As  a  member  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  I  heartily  thank  thee  for  it.  I  hope 
the  perusal  of  it  will  have  a  good  effect  upon  a  class  in  our 


BURLINGTON  BI-CENTENNIAL  ADDRESS.         159 

Society  who  make  it  a  point  to  disparage  and  undervalue 
the  early  Quakers. 

"  With  high  regard,  thy  friend, 

"JOHN  G.  WHITTLES." 

"  CAMBRIDGE,  March  26,  1878. 

"  DEAR  MR.  BROWN, — I  have  received  and  read  with 
great  interest  and  pleasure  your  oration  on  the  '  Settlement 
of  Burlington/ 

"  It  is  a  very  stirring  and  eloquent  production,  and  very 
picturesque  in  its  details. 

"  Please  accept  my  cordial  thanks  for  your  thought  of 
me,  and  for  making  me  one  of  your  hearers  at  second  hand, 
— that  is  to  say,  one  of  your  attentive  and  sympathizing 
readers. 

"  I  remember  Burlington  in  the  old  stage-coach  and 
steamboat  days ;  and  remember  passing  the  entrance  to 
Joseph  Bonaparte's  grounds.  It  was  in  May;  and  the 
scenery  seemed,  and  still  seems  to  me  in  memory,  very 
lovely.  Your  words  bring  it  all  back  to  me.  It  is  like 
presenting  me  a  bouquet. 

"  Be  kind  enough  to  give  my  best  regards  and  remem 
brance  to  Mrs.  Brown,  and  believe  me, 
"Yours  very  truly, 

"HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW." 

"WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  March  28,  1878. 

"MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  have  received  your  oration  and 
have  read  it,  as  I  always  do  what  you  write,  with  great 
interest. 

"You  inquire  respecting  imprinted  accounts  of  the 
winter  at  Valley  Forge.  I  apprehend  that  there  is  very 
little,  or  nothing,  to  be  added  to  the  printed  material  that 


160  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

relates  to  that  subject.  I  do  not  know  of  anything  relat 
ing  to  it  in  the  public  archives  that  is  not  already  before 
the  world.  Among  my  own  manuscript  collections,  I  have 
•one  journal  of  the  time,  and  at  least  one  allusion  to  it, 
made  by  German  officers  who  were  there.  These  shall  be 
perfectly  at  your  service  if  you  chance  to  come  to  Wash 
ington  ;  but  I  am  bound  to  say  there  is  nothing  in  them 
which  would  repay  the  time  and  trouble  of  the  journey. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

BANCROFT." 


These  letters  may  possibly  appear  to  be  the  courteous 
expressions  of  those  who  knew  how  to  say  kind  things  to 
young  men  of  worth  and  promise;  but  that  they  were 
more,  and  were  genuine  words  of  praise,  we  think  the  ad 
dress  will  show,  when  candidly  read.  The  charge  of  pro 
lixity  does  not  hold  against  this  oration.  Its  style,  while 
finished,  is  not  highly  rhetorical.  It  is  in  quiet  good  taste 
as  befitting  the  peaceful  old  Quaker  town  about  which  its 
loving  memories  linger.  It  has  more  of  the  unpretending 
plainness  of  perfect  speech  than  is  commonly  found.  It  is 
not  wordy,  but  terse  and  solid  with  facts.  Whole  periods 
of  history  are  analyzed  and  comprehensively  summed  up. 
Without  dwelling  minutely  upon  them,  an  event,  a  char 
acter,  a  scene,  are  painted  in  a  few  vigorous  strokes.  The 
address  has  that  picturesque  life  and  freshness  which  is  the 
result  of  the  most  thorough  study,  and  of  a  genuine  interest 
on  the  part  of  the  speaker.  As  it  draws  near  its  close,  there 
are  touches  of  delicate  pathos  quite  inimitable,  and  best 
understood  by  those  to  whom  it  was  spoken.  It  is  an  emi 
nently  sensible  address  throughout,  —  homespun,  we  would 
call  it,  if  it  were  not  so  beautiful  ;  —  and,  above  all,  there 
is  an  appreciation  of  what  is  genuinely  noble  in  principle 


POLITICAL    QUESTIONS.  1(31 

weakened  by  no  conventional  narrowness  or  mere  senti- 
mentalism.  The  manly  ring  of  righteousness  is  in  it. 
It  exhibits  the  character  of  one  who  sees  the  true  great 
ness  of  the  beginnings  of  a  State  which  is  established  in 
justice. 

.  Political  matters  at  that  time,  when  the  financial  ques 
tion,  the  Southern  question,  civil  reform,  and  other  great 
subjects  awaiting  the  action  of  a  new  administration  were 
agitated,  mingled  with  professional  business,  seem  to  have 
taken  up  the  early  part  of  the  last  year  of  Mr.  Brown's 
life.  He  was,  as  one  of  his  friends  writes,  "  still  dreaming 
of  reform."  He  held  on  to  that  idea,  not  disheartened 
for  a  moment,  urging  it  constantly  upon  such  men  as  Mr. 
Schurz,  Mr.  Bristow,  and  other  leading  politicians  of  his 
own  school,  and  pouring  out  to  them  what  he  had  in  his 
heart.  He  would  do  his  part  to  give  a  decided  trend  to 
the  political  current.  He  was  earnest  in  the  hope  of  the 
advancement  of  the  main  object  of  his  life,  believing  as  he 
did  that  government  itself  was  the  best  instrument  of  polit 
ical  reform.  He  had  indeed  no  Quixotic  conception  of 
perfect  justice  being  done,  but  he  thought  that  an  organi 
zation  already  established — viz.,  the  State — was  one  of  the 
most  powerful  means  of  securing  the  redress  and  protection 
of  the  rights  of  all,  and  the  greatest  good  of  the  greatest 
number,  which  is  the  end  of  true  government.  He  had 
more  confidence  in  men  than  others  had,  and  he  wished  to 
make  trial  of  all  who  promised  anything.  At  the  same 
time  he  was  keen-sighted,  and  was  not  deceived  by  appear 
ances.  He  was  already  suspicious  of  some  "  whose  leader 
ship  is  no  rebuke  to  wrong  even  if  it  does  not  discourage 
the  right.'7  He  prophesied  "  the  biggest  fight,  within  six 
months  of  Governor  Hayes's  inaugural,  that  ever  tried  the 


162  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

courage  of  a  President/7  He  longed  for  "  the  more  posi 
tive  assertion  of  the  reform  principle,  which  would  give 
courage  to  honest  men  in  the  nation."  He  thought,  with 
a  few  others,  that  "bold  leadership"  and  "heroic  treat 
ment"  were  sometimes  required.  These,  and  not  "good 
intentions"  alone,  could  inspire  courage  at  a  time  when 
national  affairs  looked  so  dark. 

On  the  questions  of  hard  money,  of  Southern  pacifica 
tion,  and  kindred  topics,  he  thought  the  government  at 
that  time  had  made  a  fair  record,  or,  at  least,  had  made  a 
fair  show,  but  there  were  peculiar  difficulties  arising  from 
organized  opposition  in  the  Senate,  and  feeble  support  in 
the  House,  on  the  question  of  the  reform  of  the  civil  ser 
vice,  and  here  he  felt  that  a  united  effort  by  the  purest  and 
best  men  in  the  nation,  and  especially  in  the  Republican 
party,  was  demanded.  He  was  restless  under  the  silence 
and  supineness  of  the  Reform  party  in  the  land,  and,  if  he 
had  lived,  his  voice  would  have  rung  out  in  unmistakable 
tones,  urging  on  what  he  considered  to  be  the  cause  of  civil 
purification. 

On  the  subject  of  the  tariff  Mr.  Brown  differed  with 
many  good  men,  and  with  some  of  his  best  friends,  and, 
true  to  his  Yale  training,  was  strongly  inclined  (though  not 
yet  entirely  given  over)  to  free-trade  views,  as  being,  on  the 
whole,  better  than  even  a  temporary  system  of  protection 
which  necessitates  governmental  intermeddling  with  trade ; 
in  fact,  he  had  been  chosen,  about  a  year  before,  to  the 
membership  of  the  Cobden  Club,  London,  and  had  been 
asked  to  contribute  a  paper  upon  free  trade. 

At  a  bar  meeting  held  March  14,  1878,  in  memory  of 
an  eminent  lawyer,  James  H.  Castle,  Esq.,  Mr.  Brown  was 
one  of  the  speakers.  His  remarks  were  brief  but  to  the 
point.  He  said : 


SPEECH  IN  MEMORY  OF  JAMES  H.  CASTLE. 

"  MR.  CHAIRMAN, — Before  these  resolutions  are  put  to  a  vote  I 
want  to  say  a  word.  I  have  no  wish  to  make  a  speech,  for  I  am  not 
unmindful  that  that  privilege  belongs  to  those  who  are  older  at  the 
bar  and  older  in  friendship  with  Mr.  Castle  than  I  can  claim  to 
have  been.  But  I  grew  up  within  the  sunny  circle  which  his  nature 
threw  around  him,  and  for  more  than  a  third  of  my  lifetime  I  have 
enjoyed  a  friendship  with  him  as  close  as  was  possible,  perhaps,  be 
tween  two  men  separated,  in  point  of  age,  by  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century.  I  should  be  sorry  to  mar  the  harmony  of  this  most 
harmonious  meeting  by  any  attempt  to  add  words  of  mine  to  what 
has  been  already  said  in  eulogy  of  him,  but  the  allusions  made  by 
my  friends,  Mr.  Morris  and  Judge  Mitchell,  to  the  melancholy  pre 
diction  written  on  his  photograph,  have  suggested  to  me,  as  I  sat 
here,  that  I  should  tell  you  what  happened  when  I  saw  him  last. 
Less  than  three  weeks  ago — a  fortnight  ago  on  Saturday  evening — 
I  was  told  that  Mr.  Castle  was  in  the  parlor.  When  I  hurried 
down-stairs  he  greeted  me  as  heartily  as  ever,  and  told  me  that  he 
had  heard  that  I  was  engaged  in  something  in  which  perhaps  he 
could  help  me.  He  had,  he  said,  a  map  drawn  by  an  officer  of  La 
fayette's  staff,  of  the  retreat  from  Barren  Hill,  which  he  wanted  me 
to  see.  It  was  an  original,  and  unique.  I  said  I  would  call  at  his 
house  and  get  it.  '  No,'  he  replied ;  '  I  will  leave  it  at  your  office 
on  Monday  morning  as  I  go  to  mine.'  I  repeated  that  I  had 
rather  call  on  him.  '  Let  me  have  my  way  about  it,'  he  interrupted  ; 
and  I  acquiesced.  He  did  not  wait  until  Monday,  but,  characteris 
tically,  brought  the  map  and  left  it  for  me  the  next  evening  at  my 
door.  I  noticed  that  he  spoke  in  a  husky  voice,  as  if  he  had  a  cold. 
It  was  not  that,  he  explained,  but  something  which  had  begun  to 
grow  in  his  throat  and  gave  him  trouble.  He  had  just  come  from 
his  physicians,  and,  said  he,  '  They  are  going  to  cut  my  throat.' 
He  answered  my  anxious  questions  with  a  half-serious,  half-jocular 
manner  that  was  natural  to  him,  and  presently  arose  to  go.  I  went 
with  him  to  the  door.  As  he  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  steps  he 
turned,  and,  taking  my  hand  in  his,  said,  'Well,  I  sha'n't  see  you 
again,  so  we  had  better  say  good-by.'  ;0h,  Mr.  Castle,'  I  exclaimed, 
4  don't  talk  so  !'  '  Yes,'  he  repeated,  '  you  will  never  see  me  again. 
Good-by,  my  boy  ;'  and,  with  a  warm  squeeze  of  my  hand,  he 
passed  quickly  down  the  steps  and  vanished  into  the  night. 

"  I  know  very  well,  sir,  that  the  life  of  man  is  short.     4  The  life 


164  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

of  man,'  said  the  old  Saxon  thane,  '  is  like  the  flight  of  a  sparrow  in 
the  winter-time,  that  comes  in  at  the  open  door,  nutters  for  a  mo 
ment  in  the  firelight  on  the  hearth,  and,  on  a  sudden,  darts  out 
again  into  the  icy  darkness.'  I  may  be  the  next  one  of  this  com 
pany  to  follow  him  whom  we  lament  to-day.  But  should  my  life  be 
lengthened  to  the  years  of  the  venerable  gentleman  who  sits  before 
me,  I  shall  never  forget  that  manly  form  as  it  stood  there  for  a  mo 
ment,  for  the  last  time,  on  my  threshold.  I  shall  never  forget  that 
beautiful  countenance  and  the  warm  grasp  of  that  honest  right 
hand.  I  shall  never  forget  that  dead  gentleman  who  was  my  friend; 
and  the  tones  of  that  prophetic  farewell — for  such  it  has  sadly  come 
to  be — touched  a  chord  in  my  heart  and  memory  that  will  ever 
vibrate  at  the  mention  of  his  name." 

Near  the  beginning  of  the  last  year  of  his  life,  Mr. 
Brown  had  been  asked  to  deliver  an  oration  on  the  anni 
versary  of  the  occupation  of  Valley  Forge.  The  follow 
ing  is  a  letter  from  Benson  J.  Lossing,  Esq.,  who  was 
consulted  by  him  upon  this  historic  theme : 

"  THE  RIDGE,  DOVER  PLAINS, 
"  DUTCHESS  Co.,  N.  Y.,  April  1,  1878. 

"MY  DEAR  SIR, — Your  esteemed  favor  of  the  23d 
March  reached  my  desk  during  my  absence  from  home, 
and  this  is  my  excuse  for  seeming  discourtesy  in  not 
promptly  responding. 

"I  really  have  no  knowledge  of  facts  concerning  the 
history  or  incidents  of  Valley  Forge  other  than  what  may 
be  found  in  the  books  you  have  mentioned.  I  gathered 
all  I  could  find,  at  the  time,  for  my  '  Field-Book  of  the 
Revolution/  and  nothing  new  that  seemed  authentic  has 
fallen  in  my  way  since. 

"  I  suppose  the  time  chosen  for  your  oration  (June)  im 
plies  that  the  central  historic  point  in  your  discourse  will 
be  the  departure  of  Washington  from  Valley  Forge  to 
pursue  Clinton  across  New  Jersey.  I  have  prepared  a 


VALLEY  FORGE   ORATION.  165 

paper  for  the  June  number  of  Harper's  Magazine  on  the 
battle  of  Monmouth.  It  will  be  issued  about  the  mid 
dle  of  May.  I  do  not  know  that  you  will  find  much 
that  is  new  in  it.  I  made  brief  extracts  from  a  diary, 
or  rather  an  orderly  book  of  a  British  officer,  that  was 
found  on  the  field  of  Monmouth  after  the  battle.  The 
orderly  book  was  deposited  in  the  Historical  Society 
of  Pennsylvania  by  Mr.  Buckelew.  Through  Professor 
Samuel  Lockwood,  of  Freehold,  New  Jersey,  I  got  per 
mission  to  make  use  of  it,  and  Mr.  John  J. ,  of  the 

Historical  Society  of  Pennsylvania,  kindly  sent  it  to  me. 
At  the  request  of  Mr.  Buckelew  I  returned  it  to  Professor 
Lockwood,  and  I  presume  it  has  been  sent  back  again  to 
the  Historical  Society.  Have  you  '  The  Treason  of  Major- 
General  Charles  Lee/  by  Dr.  George  H.  Moore,  late 
librarian  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society?  It  casts 
light  upon  the  incident  noted  in  my  Field-Book  of  the 
hesitation  of  Lee  in  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance  at  Valley 
Forge,  and  of  other  incidents  of  his  official  career,  to 
which  I  have  alluded  in  the  paper  for  '  Harper/ 

"  I  am  sure  the  author  of  the  oration  at  Burlington  last 
December,  and  at  the  Centennial  Celebration  of  the  meet 
ing  of  the  First  Continental  Congress,  needs  no  suggestions 
from  me  as  to  the  treatment  of  any  subject.  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  much  I  have  enjoyed  the  perusal  of  your  Bur 
lington  oration,  not  only  as  an  historical  address,  but  as  a 
literary  composition.  I  am  specially  pleased  with  its  pic 
tures  of  the  Quaker  settlers  in  that  region,  for  I  am  of 
Quaker  descent  on  my  mother's  side, — Long  Island  settlers. 
The  oration  must  have  been  specially  pleasing  to  the  old 
families  of  West  Jersey,  and  particularly  of  Burlington, 
because  of  its  wealth  of  information  upon  local  topics  and 
honored  citizens. 


166  MEMOIR  OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"  Your  kind  avowal  of  your  appreciation  of  my  '  Field- 
Book  of  the  Revolution'  is  very  grateful  to  me,  for  it  is  an 
other  testimonial  added  to  many,  that  the  object  I  had  in 
view  in  the  peculiar  construction  of  that  work  has  been 
accomplished,  namely,  to  induce  young  people  to  read  and 
become  acquainted  with  the  period  of  our  history  which, 
as  Paine  said,  '  tried  men's  souls.7  It  gratifies  me  to  know 
that  it  turned  the  attention  to  that  history  of  one  so  gifted, 
patriotic,  and  zealous  as  Henry  Armitt  Brown.  I  have 
placed  your  letter  in  the  copy  of  the  oration,  which  you 
kindly  sent  me,  as  a  legacy  for  my  children. 
"  With  sentiments  of  cordial  esteem, 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  your  sincere  friend, 

"  BENSON  J.  LOSSING." 

This  oration  at  Valley  Forge,  delivered  June  19,  1878, 
was  the  last  of  Mr.  Brown's  public  efforts.  He  was, 
physically,  in  no  sort  of  condition  to  undertake  it.  His 
system  was  run  down  by  hard  work,  and  it  was  only  his 
resolute  will  that  enabled  him  to  go  through  the  labor  and 
excitement  of  the  occasion.  His  brother,  Frederick  Brown, 
Esq.,  gives  this  brief  account  of  the  day  so  far  as  it  relates 
to  him  personally : 

"Early  on  the  morning  of  the  19th  June,  1878,  I 
met  Hal  at  the  Norristown  Railroad  depot,  and  we  started 
for  Valley  Forge.  For  forty-eight  hours  the  rain  had 
poured  down,  but  this  morning  was  clear,  though  warm, 
and  the  rain  had  freshened  the  earth  and  made  all  nature 
rejoice. 

"  Arriving  at  Norristown,  we  found  a  carriage  waiting  for 
us,  and  my  brother  enjoyed  the  drive  of  seven  miles.  It 
rather  improved  his  condition.  After  driving  down  to  see 
the  review  we  took  our  lunch  in  the  carriage,  and  then  went 


VALLEY  FORGE   ORATION.  167 

to  Mr.  Todd's  mansion,  where  we  were  most  kindly  received, 
and  Hal  had  an  hour's  rest,  and  then  to  the  tent.  Three 
hours  elapsed,  and  then  Governor  Hartranft  introduced  the 
orator  of  the  day. 

"  He  commenced,  as  was  his  usual  practice,  very  slowly 
and  distinctly.  His  voice  had  not  its  usual  power  at  first, 
but  gradually  cleared,  and  after  holding  the  audience  com 
pletely  in  hand  for  some  two  hours,  the  last  words  were 
delivered  with  immense  effect,  and  in  perfect  stillness. 
He  turned,  took  three  or  four  steps  back  to  his  chair, 
dropped  into  it,  and  almost  fainted.  Then  cheer  on  cheer 
broke  out,  and  a  large  number  rushed  forward  to  shake 
hands  with  him ;  but  the  first  who  neared  him  noticed  his 
condition,  and  one  kind  soul  called  out  to  his  fellows, 
6  Boys,  this  man  is  used  up  to-day.  We'll  wait  till  he  is 
better  to  shake  hands  with  him ;'  and  the  crowd  fell  back. 

"  Alas !  the  day  that  he  was  better  was  never  to  arrive. 
After  he  recovered  sufficiently  we  started  for  Norristown, 
and  then  took  the  cars  again,  two  good  friends  of  Hal's 
accompanying  us. 

"  When  we  reached  his  house  it  was  9.30  P.M.,  and  he 
was  ready  for  bed.  After  one  day's  rest  he  commenced 
writing  the  Monmouth  Address,  and  finished  it  in  bed  on 
the  28th  of  June, — being  taken  with  typhoid  fever  from 
which  he  never  rallied,  dying  on  the  21st  of  August,  after 
fifty-eight  days  of  steady  fight  between  natural  strength 
and  science  and  the  fever." 

No  one  ever  engaged  an  audience  under  greater  diffi 
culties.  In  the  first  place  his  voice  was  impaired  by  a 
cold,  and  then  there  was  the  constant  banging  of  the  band, 
the  cracking  of  board  benches,  the  cries  of  venders  of  all 
kinds  of  things,  and  the  absence  of  any  effective  police 
regulations.  But,  in  spite  of  all,  the  interest  was  held  for 


168  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

two  hours  unflagging,  and  without  the  slightest  manifesta 
tion  of  weariness,  to  the  end.  A  detailed  narrative  of  the 
scene  and  the  oration  has  been  written  by  a  college  friend. 
From  this  paper,  which  was  originally  prepared  to  be  read 
before  the  Chicago  Library  Society,  we  give  the  following 
extract : 

"The  day  itself  was  singularly  beautiful.  The  crowd 
began  to  gather  from  all  the  adjacent  country  early  in  the 
morning.  They  visited  with  reverent  interest  the  little 
stone  house  on  the  immediate  banks  of  the  river  where 
Washington  was  quartered ;  dispersed  themselves  over  the 
historic  hills ;  traced  out  the  old  earthworks  on  the  upper 
ridges,  which  the  constantly  renewed  growth  of  the  woods 
has  preserved  in  nearly  their  original  character ;  pointed  out 
to  each  other  from  some  stand-point  of  advantage  the  places 
where,  over  the  fair  fields  of  grass  and  grain,  other  lines  of 
defence,  long  since  obliterated,  had  once  been  located,  and 
looked  down  the  old  Gulf  road,  glistening  now  under  the 
clear  June  sunlight,  over  which  the  little  army  marched 
exactly  a  century  ago  full  of  the  spirit  of  victory. 

"  Nothing  could  be  finer  than  the  sight,  as  toward  mid 
day  the  crowd,  swelled  now  to  large  proportions,  began  to 
mass  itself  in  and  about  the  great  tent,  pitched  by  the 
side  of  what  remained  of  an  old  redoubt  that  formed  the 
key  to  the  original  line  of  defence.  The  most  common 
place  soul  among  them  seemed  to  catch  some  of  the  inspira 
tion  of  the  spot  and  its  memories. 

"  The  horizon  of  those  whose  life  had  been  most  circum 
scribed  must  have  been  a  little  widened  with  the  thought 
of  what  had  been  done  and  suffered  where  they  stood. 

"  Before  such  an  audience,  filled  with  the  subtle  influence 
of  the  day,  the  occasion,  the  memories,  and  the  visible  his 
tory  about  them,  our  young  orator  stepped  forward  to  pro- 


VALLEY  FORGE  ORATION,  169 

nounce  the  oration  which  was  on  the  whole  the  greatest, 
as  it  was  the  last  work,  of  his  short  life. 

"  Pale  with  the  natural  excitement  of  the  occasion,  and 
with  what  was  known  afterwards  to  be  the  unnatural  ex 
citement  of  encroaching  disease,  he  stood  before  them,  an 
ideal,  youthful,  manly  presence.  Gifted  with  a  rich  voice, 
using  with  consummate  art  the  grace  of  oratory,  of  which 
he  was  a  master,  he  held  the  vast  crowd  as  by  some  en 
chantment,  while  he  reproduced  the  scenes  of  one  hundred 
years  ago,  and  made  the  hills  and  woods  alive  again  with 
the  patient  heroic  figure  of  the  Continental  soldier.  Who 
that  was  present  can  forget  how  the  crowd  visibly  thrilled, 
as  he  said, — 

" '  If  my  voice  be  feeble,  we  have  but  to  look  around. 
The  hills  that  saw  our  fathers  suifer  look  down  on  us ;  the 
ground  that  thrilled  beneath  their  feet  we  tread  to-day ; 
their  unmarked  graves  still  lie  in  yonder  field  ;  the  breast 
works  which  they  built  to  shelter  them  surround  us  here  ! 
Dumb  witnesses  of  the  heroic  past,  ye  need  no  tongues  ! 
Face  to  face  with  you,  we  see  it  all.  This  soft  breeze 
changes  to  an  icy  blast ;  these  trees  drop  the  glory  of  the 
summer,  and  the  earth  beneath  our  feet  is  wrapped  in 
snow.  Beside  us  is  a  village  of  log  huts, — along  that  ridge 
smoulder  the  fires  of  a  camp.  The  sun  has  sunk,  the  stars 
glitter  in  the  inky  sky,  the  camp  is  hushed,  the  fires  are  out, 
the  night  is  still,  all  are  in  slumber  except  where  a  lamp 
glimmers  in  yonder  cottage  window,  and  a  passing  shadow 
shows  a  tall  figure  pacing  to  and  fro.  The  cold  silence  is 
unbroken,  save  wThen  on  yonder  ramparts,  crunching  the 
crisp  snow  with  wounded  feet,  a  ragged  sentinel  keeps 
watch  for  liberty.7 

"  Having  quickened  their  imagination  with  such  pic 
torial  and  heroic  suggestions  of  the  scene,  and  having 


170  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

stimulated  their  patriotic  enthusiasm  and  impulses  with 
the  natural  contrast  between  the  nation  then  and  now,  he 
brought  his  oration  to  a  close  with  this  solemn  vision  of 
the  future : 

"  '  The  age  in  which  we  live  is  but  a  link  in  the  endless 
and  eternal  chain.  Our  lives  are  like  the  sands  upon  the 
shore;  our  voices  like  the  breath  of  this  summer  breeze 
that  stirs  the  leaf  for  a  moment  and  is  forgotten.  But  in 
the  impenetrable  to-be  the  endless  generations  are  advan 
cing  to  take  our  places  as  we  fall.  For  them,  as  for  us, 
shall  the  earth  roll  on,  and  the  seasons  come  and  go,  the 
snow-flakes  fall,  the  flowers  bloom,  and  the  harvests  be 
gathered  in.  For  them,  as  for  us,  shall  the  sun,  like  the 
life  of  man,  rise  out  of  darkness  in  the  morning  and  sink 
into  darkness  in  the  night.  For  them,  as  for  us,  shall  the 
years  march  by  in  the  sublime  procession  of  the  ages,  and 
here,  in  this  place  of  sacrifice,  in  this  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  out  of  which  the  life  of  America  arose  regenerate 
and  free,  let  us  believe  with  an  abiding  faith  that  to  them 
union  will  seem  as  dear  and  liberty  as  sweet  and  progress 
as  glorious  as  they  were  to  our  fathers  and  are  to  you  and 
me,  and  that  the  institutions  that  have  made  us  happy, 
preserved  by  the  virtue  of  our  children,  shall  bless  the  re 
motest  generations  of  the  time  to  come;  and  unto  Him  who 
holds  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand  the  fate  of  nations,  and 
yet  marks  the  sparrow's  fall,  let  us  lift  up  our  hearts  this 
day,  and  unto  His  eternal  care  commend  ourselves,  our 
children,  and  our  country/  " 

From  the  delivery  of  this  oration  Mr.  Brown  went 
home,  it  might  literally  be  said,  to  die.  Low  in  strength, 
and  using  up  all  the  physical  energy  he  had  in  speaking, 
he  contracted  a  fever  at  or  about  the  time  of  the  celebration 
of  Valley  Forge.  The  day  itself  was  very  hot,  and  the 


THE  LAST  DAYS.  171 

tent  in  which  the  speeches  were  made  much  hotter.  He 
came  home  utterly  exhausted ;  nevertheless,  within  twenty- 
four  hours  of  his  return  he  commenced  work  on  the  Mon- 
mouth  oration,  which  he  finished  while  on  his  bed.  This, 
his  last  literary  production,  will  not  be  thought  to  be  un 
worthy  of  him,  or  to  show  any  signs  of  failing  strength. 
It  is  full  of  vigor  and  oratorical  fire.  It  was  not  until  the 
evening  before  the  day  appointed  for  the  celebration  at 
Monmouth,  that  he  finally  consented  to  allow  his  family 
to  telegraph  that  he  could  not  perform  the  office.  From 
that  time  the  fever  increased,  and  before  many  days  its 
symptoms  were  unmistakably  those  of  typhoid.  For  eight 
weeks  there  was  a  succession  of  hopes  and  fears.  At  one 
time,  when  strong  confidence  of  his  recovery  was  aroused, 
the  good  news  gave  joy  to  all  good  men  throughout  the 
country.  It  was  touching  to  observe  during  this  long 
period  when  he  was  struggling  with  the  disease,  how  in 
tense  was  the  interest  manifested  everywhere  and  by  all 
kinds  of  persons,  and,  above  all,  by  the  laboring  class. 
Relatives  and  family  friends  would  be  waylaid  at  all  hours 
of  the  day  and  night  to  be  questioned  by  strangers  who 
did  not  give  their  names — chiefly  working-men — in  regard 
to  his  condition.  He  had  struck  into  human  sympathy. 
At  first,  in  his  rarely  occurring  moments  of  delirium,  his 
mind  seemed  to  be  taken  up  with  the  act  of  speaking. 
When  fully  himself  again,  he  questioned  his  physicians  as 
to  the  nature  and  duration  of  his  disease.  He  wished  to 
know  precisely  his  condition.  Just  at  the  turning-point, 
at  the  end  of  three  weeks,  when  the  fever  was  almost  gone, 
there  came  a  terribly  hot  day,  and  he  was  again  prostrated. 
After  that  he  was  conscious  only  at  intervals  of  a  day  or 
two,  but  when  thus  himself,  though  suffering  much  men 
tally,  all  impatience  had  left  him.  He  seemed  to  be  com- 


172  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

muning  with  thoughts  of  higher  things.  His  religious 
nature  was  looking  from  the  earthly  away  to  God.  He 
expected,  indeed,  to  recover ;  and  his  recuperative  powers 
were  so  great  that  it  is  no  wonder  his  friends  hoped  to  the 
last.  In  order  to  give  him  the  benefit  of  a  change  of  air, 
however  slight,  he  was  removed  to  his  brother  Frederick's 
house,  a  few  streets  off.  He  surprised  those  who  were 
carrying  him  in  an  apparently  unconscious  state  by  giving 
a  direction  as  to  the  way  in  a  calm  voice,  showing  that 
he  knew  perfectly  what  they  were  doing.  Observing  that 
most  of  the  accustomed  furniture  of  the  room  had  been 
removed,  he  uttered  a  protest  that  so  much  trouble  should 
have  been  taken  on  his  account.  His  voice,  whenever  he 
spoke,  remained  strong,  and  his  eye  clear. 

That  night,  however,  he  began  to  sink,  and  he  died  at 
half-past  eleven  o'clock  on  Wednesday  morning,  August 
21,  1878,  at  the  age  of  thirty-three  years. 

The  funeral,  which  took  place  at  his  brother's  residence, 
was  largely  attended  by  members  of  the  legal  profession. 
There  was  a  brief  service  at  the  house,  and  then  the  re 
mains  were  taken  to  the  church  of  St.  James,  the  following 
gentlemen  acting  as  pall-bearers :  Samuel  Dickson,  Wayne 
McVeagh,  Daniel  Dougherty,  Henry  Hazlehurst,  Theo 
dore  Starr,  E.  Hunn  Hanson,  Samuel  W.  Hollingsworth, 
Victor  Guillou,  and  John  J.  Ridgway. 

At  the  church  religious  services  were  conducted  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Morton,  in  conjunction  with  Drs.  Claxton  and 
Paddock  and  other  clergymen.  Dr.  Morton  spoke  a  few 
words  in  a  feeling  and  appreciative  way  of  the  deceased. 
The  interment  was  at  Laurel  Hill,  at  the  gate  of  which 
cemetery  the  funeral  procession  was  met  by  all  the  work 
men  employed  upon  the  grounds,  as  their  mark  of  respect 
for  the  dead. 


AS  AN  ORATOR.  173 

In  a  quiet  spot,  overlooking  the  great  city  at  a  distance 
with  its  toiling  myriads,  and  the  picturesque  and  beautiful 
Schuylkill  River  which  flows  close  by  beneath,  life's  work 
over,  he  peacefully  rests.  The  life  is  ended,  and  the  river 
still  runs  its  ceaseless  course.  But  could  we  look  into 
those  things  that  are  unseen  and  eternal,  the  river  would 
cease  to  run,  and  the  life  in  ampler  majesty  and  joy  flow 
on. 

Henry  Armitt  Brown,  though  a  man  of  uncommonly 
varied  gifts,  was  a  born  orator.  This  was  his  highest 
manifestation  of  power  by  which  he  impressed  himself  on 
men.  This,  therefore,  must  be  our  chief  word  concerning 
him ;  and  with  some  thoughtful  and  loving  words  of  others 
respecting  his  eloquence  and  his  character  we  take  leave 
of  him. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  he  exercised  an  extraordi 
nary  influence  over  audiences,  even  more  than  his  published 
speeches  would  seem  to  bear  out.  The  orator's  power,  mys 
teriously  connected  with  his  personality,  evades  our  attempt 
to  perpetuate  it.  The  voice,  eye,  gesture,  the  subtle  magic 
of  the  presence,  vanish.  Music  lingers  in  its  characters,  but 
eloquence,  like  the  wind,  never  recedes  nor  stays.  The  charm 
perishes  along  with  the  speaker.  That  which  came  like  a 
divine  breath  from  the  soul,  departs  with  it.  Slight  as  was 
his  form,  his  speech  "  wielded  the  fierce  democracy."  With 
the  exception  of  Patrick  Henry,  Henry  Clay,  Daniel  Webster, 
and  a  few  of  our  greatest  orators,  no  speaker  in  the  land  ever 
had  moments  of  completer  triumph  than  he  over  the  minds 
and  feelings  of  his  hearers, — as  at  Carpenters'  Hall,  Valley 
Forge,  and  the  occasions  when  he  mastered  rude  and  hos 
tile  assemblies  by  the  spell  of  his  eloquence.  Wherein  lay 
that  spell  ?  Not  in  rant,  clap-trap,  and  stormy  declamation. 


174  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

Not  in  a  massive  style  like  Bright's  oratory,  nor  in  cumu 
lative  epithet  like  Sumner's,  nor  in  "  epigrammatic  brilli 
ancy"  like  Beaconsfield's,  nor  in  broad  philosophic  discussion 
like  Gladstone's,  nor  in  the  magnificent  marshalling  of  fact 
and  phrase  like  Macaulay's,  nor  in  a  coarse  passionate  vigor 
like  O'Connell's.  He  did  not  have  all  forces  combined, — 
who  does?  His  speech  was  more  like  that  of  the  great 
French  orators,  finished,  classic,  evenly  sustained,  without 
display  of  violence  or  undisciplined  imagination.  He  had 
an  elegance  of  style  not  incompatible  with  the  highest 
vigor.  He  won  by  a  forceful  but  steady  pressure.  He 
had  three  qualities  of  an  orator, — a  masterful  will,  personal 
magnetism,  and  an  exquisitely  finished  elocution. 

His  strong,  masculine  will,  was  itself  a  pure  force  in  his 
oratory,  that  thus  became,  in  Emerson's  words,  "the  appro 
priate  organ  of  the  highest  personal  energy."  He  was  filled 
with  his  theme.  He  became  a  complete  instrument  of  the 
word  he  spoke.  He  poured  himself  out  upon  his  speech 
with  the  whole  energy  of  his  being.  Yet  the  flow  was 
regular  and  calm.  There  was  intense  feeling  though  under 
control,  and  this  communicated  itself,  as  reserved  power 
does,  imperceptibly,  to  the  audience.  They  felt  its  gentle 
but  resistless  sway.  They  felt  that  the  man,  body,  soul, 
and  spirit,  while  obedient  to  the  higher  intelligence  inform 
ing  them,  was  in  the  utterance.  Hence  sympathy  and  mag 
netism, — a  fire  that  fused  speaker  and  hearers  in  one.  He 
took  quiet  but  entire  possession  of  his  audience,  and  in 
apparently  effortless  ways  often  produced  wonderful  effects ; 
for  while  the  speech  was  smoothly  flowing,  claiming  no 
undue  advantage  over  his  hearers'  minds,  chording  in  and 
going  along  with  their  convictions,  appealing  to  the  best 
that  was  in  them,  with  no  attempt  at  eloquence,  there  was 
opportunity  generated  for  ample  power,  and  the  divine 


AS  AN  ORATOR.  175 

afflatus  sometimes  came,  lifting  him  and  his  hearers  into 
higher  regions  of  thought  and  feeling.  The  wind  blew 
evenly  along,  but  now  and  then  the  tempest  filled  the  sails 
with  a  heaven-sent  inspiration. 

His  delivery  was  a  constant  charm.  His  voice  was  one 
of  great  flexibility  and  compass,  and  his  articulation  was 
singularly  distinct,  rounded,  and  musical.  He  had  not 
particularly  trained  his  voice  by  elocutionary  methods  (that 
was  something  he  was  always  going  to  do),  but  it  was  a 
natural  gift  with  which  he  could,  as  upon  a  lute,  sound  all 
the  notes  and  stops  of  passion.  "While  there  was  somewhat 
too  much  of  rhythm  and  he  was  not  sufficiently  abrupt,  in 
many  points  his  speaking  resembled  the  oratory  of  Grattan, 
— the  same  finished  style  and  harmonious  delivery,  the  same 
brilliant  fancy  and  incisive  wit.  He  had  not  yet  been  tried 
in  the  severe  school  of  parliamentary  debate,  but  his  readi 
ness  in  extempore  speech,  though  developed  late,  showed 
what  he  could  have  done  in  Congress  if  he  had  lived  to 
cope  with  others  in  the  halls  of  national  legislation.  For, 
as  we  have  said,  he  was  a  native  orator.  Everything  was 
spontaneous.  He  had  in  him  the  hidden  resources  of  ora 
torical  genius.  He  was,  above  all,  a  political  speaker.  Pie 
delighted  in  those  broad  themes  which  concerned  the  wel 
fare  of  the  State  and  the  administration  of  the  laws.  He 
had  a  manly  intellect.  As  we  have  said,  he  grasped  after 
power  in  order  to  control  men  in  their  relations  as  citizens 
to  the  best  good  of  the  State,  which,  Dr.  Arnold  thought, 
was  the  highest  ambition  of  a  man.  While,  like  George 
William  Curtis  and  Wendell  Phillips,  he  was  fully  able  to 
apprehend  the  morality  and  greatness  of  these  political  ques 
tions,  he  aimed,  more  than  either  of  them,  we  think,  at  the 
methods  of  a  true  state-craft,  and  the  actual  establishment 
of  a  pure  and  noble  government.  He  was  not  only  a  poli- 


176  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

tician  in  theory  but  science.  He  did  not  speak  for  momentary 
impression,  but  as  a  means  to  a  higher  end.  He  sought  to 
raise  the  political  spirit  of  the  nation.  Thus,  with  grit  and 
manhood  to  back  him,  exceptional  purity  of  spirit,  self-pos 
session,  vivid  imagination,  fine  and  ready  popular  humor,  an 
expressive  countenance  and  a  noble  gesture,  and  an  exqui 
sitely  modulated  voice, — when  filled  with  the  subject  he  was 
speaking  upon,  he  was  transformed  far  beyond  what  his 
slight  frame  and  quiet  manner  would  ever  have  given  the 
expectation  of  his  being,  his  words  vibrated  in  men's  souls, 
and  they  recognized  in  him  the  divine  gift  of  the  orator. 
Beyond  all  these,  his  character  was  one  of  manly  modesty, 
calm  in  its  equipose  and  strong,  courageous  to  speak  and 
act  its  honest  purpose. 

"  Self-reverence,  self-knowledge,  self-control, 
These  three  alone  lead  life  to  sovereign  power." 

To  say  a  word  or  two  of  his  more  familiar  traits.  If  he 
allowed  himself  two  or  three  weeks  to  prepare  an  oration, 
he  would  pass  the  first  two  in  fruitless  efforts  to  write  what 
suited  him,  becoming  more  and  more  discouraged  as  each 
day  passed ;  and,  finally,  when  he  had  barely  time  to  do  the 
work,  he  would  seem  to  strike  a  fresh  vein,  and  would 
write  almost  steadily,  with  interruptions  only  for  slight 
meals  and  sleep,  until  he  had  completed  the  whole. 

Sometimes  he  would  finish  the  peroration,  or  other  parts 
of  the  address,  and  then  spend  his  time  in  putting  them 
together  satisfactorily,  but  he  never  did  any  real  work — 
anything  he  could  make  use  of — until  very  nearly  the  time 
appointed  for  the  delivery. 

He  always  read  in  advance  of  his  writing,  and  would 
search  indefatigably  in  any  direction  for  matter  bearing  on 
his  subject ;  he  liked  to  read  what  he  had  collected  to  his 


FAMILIAR    TRAITS.  177 

wife  or  to  a  friend,  and  their  interest  would  stimulate  him ; 
and,  while  talking  it  over,  his  mind  would  become  more 
thoroughly  aroused.  The  committing  to  memory  never 
seemed  to  give  him  the  least  uneasiness,  and  one  day  usually 
sufficed  for  that,  no  matter  how  much  matter  there  was. 
He  thus  filled  his  mind  with  the  subject,  and  spoke,  though 
from  memory,  with  the  inspiration  of  the  theme. 

When  he  first  began  to  be  prominent  in  Philadelphia, 
unkind  articles  concerning  him  would  be  occasionally  pub 
lished  in  the  papers ;  for  a  time  these  annoyed  and  pained 
him,  though  he  would  say  but  little  about  it;  afterward  he 
schooled  himself  so  as  not  to  seem  in  the  least  affected  by 
such  notices,  and  would  laugh  when  speaking  of  his  former 
sensitiveness.  He  treated  his  critics  with  undiminished 
courtesy.  But  he  was  by  nature  very  sensitive  to  such 
things,  and  would  be  much  grieved  if  he  thought  that  those 
he  cared  for,  particularly  the  members  of  his  own  family, 
misunderstood  or  were  displeased  at  anything  he  did.  Being 
unusually  fair-minded  and  free  from  prejudice,  he  could 
not  understand  the  reverse  in  others. 

Mr.  Brown  was  not  what  some  would  have  considered 
a  religious  man,  though  there  was  a  strong  religious  ele 
ment  in  his  character.  The  actions  of  some  men,  done 
under  the  guise  and  in  the  name  of  religion,  which  he  re 
garded  as  wrong  and  unworthy  of  the  Christian  name,  had 
greatly  shaken  his  faith  in  professions  of  belief.  That  his 
heart  was  right  we  have  good  reasons  for  knowing ;  and 
if  forming  a  lofty  ideal  of  the  requirements  of  life,  and 
trying  to  live  up  to  it  as  nearly  as  he  could,  counts  for  any 
thing,  he  has  not  come  short.  That  he  was,  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life,  meditating  upon  a  more  positive  attitude  in 
regard  to  Christian  faith,  there  is  proof. 

Among  his  letters  are  found  a  great  many  from  all  kinds 


178  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

of  persons,  thanking  him  for  all  sorts  of  favors  received. 
He  was  overrun  by  men  out  of  employment  and  in  diffi 
culties,  and  he  almost  always  made  efforts  to  relieve  them, 
in  many  cases  obtaining  for  them  relief  or  substantially 
benefiting  them,  so  that  his  friends  sometimes  thought  he 
was  quite  too  sympathetic. 

He  never  thoroughly  enjoyed  anything  alone;  if  it  were 
a  beautiful  landscape,  fine  music,  or  a  notable  occasion,  he 
always  needed  some  one  to  partake  of  his  enjoyment  to 
make  it  perfect.  Fortunately,  he  had  a  most  happy  faculty 
of  making  friends  wherever  he  went,  inherited,  he  thought, 
from  his  father,  and  in  that  way  he  would  often  find  con 
genial  companionship  when  on  a  journey,  or  absent  from 
home,  in  other  cities.  But  one  thing  that  runs  through 
all  his  correspondence  and  conversation  was  an  intense  love 
of  home,  and  a  desire  to  be  there.  His  purest  pleasures 
were  away  from  the  strifes  of  public  life,  and  to  be  with 
those  in  whom  he  found  sympathy  of  mind  and  rest  for 
his  spirit. 

After  the  news  of  his  death,  the  letters  of  condolence 
which  came  pouring  in  bore  on  them  all  the  proof  of  a 
spontaneous  sympathy.  From  classmates,  and  men  of  his 
own  age,  the  expressions  were  of  the  most  poignant  grief, 
as  if  they  could  not  believe,  or  bear  to  believe,  the  sad 
intelligence.  The  staff  of  their  honor  seemed  to  have  been 
broken.  From  political  friends  the  lamentation  appeared 
to  be  not  less  heartfelt.  One  of  them,  a  conspicuous  member 
of  the  Reform  party,  writes,  August  23  : 

"  I  am  shocked  at  this  announcement.  All  men  who 
shared  his  high  aims  have  lost  in  him  a  friend  and  champion. 
His  wise  counsel  and  perfect  courage  will  be  sorely  missed, 
and  this  void  will  keep  his  memory  fresh  in  hearts  to  which 


WORDS  OF  FRIENDS.  179 

his  rare  personal  traits  were  unknown.  My  thoughts  have 
run  back  to-day  to  many  and  many  an  hour  passed  with 
him,  never  to  be  forgotten." 

G.  S.  Cannon,  Esq.,  of  Bordentown,  New  Jersey,  sent  to 
Frederick  Brown,  August  22,  these  few  words,  which, 
coming  from  a  lawyer  and  an  elderly  man,  are  affecting : 

"Your  fond  anticipations  have  not  been  realized,  and 
your  noble,  pure,  gifted,  and  eloquent  brother  lies  en 
shrouded  for  the  tomb.  Thousands  of  hearts  outside  of 
your  family  will  be  touched  and  troubled  by  this  great 
bereavement,  and  will  not  soon  forget,  but  will  again  and 
again  recall  to  their  recollection,  his  gentleness,  sweetness, 
and  the  wonderful  endearments  which  were  his." 

The  following  letter  from  Alfred  C.  Lambdin,  Esq.,  to 
Frederick  Brown,  contains  a  reference  to  the  Monmouth 
address : 

"  I  send  you  herewith  the  MS.  just  as  I  received  it  on 
the  night  of  the  Monmouth  Celebration.  I  held  it  subject 
to  your  brother's  orders,  hoping  that  it  might  receive  the 
revision  he  meant  to  give  it,  but  it  was  not  God's  will. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  and  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you,  how 
intensely  we  all  feel  the  shadow  of  this  great  loss.  I  think 
that  all  his  friends  felt  toward  him  as  toward  a  brother,  and 
therefore  can  enter  in  some  degree  into  a  brother's  sorrow. 

"  He  was  a  man  whom  we  must  be  thankful  to  have 
known,  whose  influence  was  invigorating,  whose  memory 
will  be  helpful." 

Dated  from  "  Gambrel  Cottage,  Manchester-by-the-Sea, 
Mass.,  August  22,  1878,"  Mr.  John  E.  Baker  received 
these  swift  lines  from  James  T.  Fields,  Esq. : 


180  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM  ITT  BROWN. 

"I  have  just  read  in  a  morning  paper  the  sad  intelli 
gence.  How  strange  it  seems,  and  how  hard  to  believe ! 

"  After  receiving  yours  of  the  8th  I  felt  easy,  and  was 
waiting  day  after  day  to  learn  of  the  dear  one's  recovery 
from  his  long  illness. 

"  What  a  mystery !  It  seems  like  a  vision  that  cannot 
be  true. 

"  My  heart  goes  out  to  those  left  weeping  behind,  and 
I  mingle  my  tears  with  theirs,  grieving  that  I  cannot  do 
anything  or  say  anything  to  help  them. 

"  God  bless  you  and  help  you  all  in  this  unlooked-for 
loss!  I  had  been  looking  forward  to  many  happy  meet 
ings  with  dear  Harry,  for  I  loved  him  and  had  high  hopes 
of  his  successful  career  as  a  patriotic  and  most  talented 
citizen. 

"  At  a  proper  time  give  our  love  to  your  daughter  and 
granddaughter,  and  tell  them  how  saddened  we  both  are 
by  what  we  hear  to-day. 

"There  is  no  sunshine  in  my  cottage  here  to-day, 
although  the  sun  is  shining  on  the  shore." 

General  George  B.  McClellan  wrote  to  Mrs.  Brown  from 
Orange,  New  Jersey,  August  23,  as  follows : 

"  Not  many  months  ago  when  my  family  were  in  sor 
row,  I  received  a  most  kind  note  from  your  husband,  and 
little  thought  at  the  time  that  the  occasion  would  so  soon 
present  itself  for  my  writing  to  you.  I  do  not  seek  to 
intrude  upon  your  grief,  but  desire  in  briefest  words  to  tell 
you  how  sincerely  I  and  mine  sympathize  with  you  in 
your  sad  hour  of  trial,  how  cordially  we  esteemed  and 
admired  your  husband,  and  how  deeply  we  feel  that  the 
loss  is  not  simply  that  of  his  family,  but  that  the  commu 
nity  in  which  he  lived  has  reason  to  deplore  the  untimely 


WORDS  OF  FRIENDS.  181 

death  of  one  whose  past  gave  the  most  excellent  promise 
for  the  future. 

"  My  family  unite  with  me  in  sincere  sympathy." 

A  cherished  friend  of  Harry's  and  of  his  family,  Bishop 
Clark,  of  Rhode  Island,  expresses  thus  his  sense  of  per 
sonal  loss  in  a  letter  dated  August  26,  addressed  to  Fred 
erick  Brown,  Esq. : 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  express  my  profound  and  earn 
est  sympathy  with  you,  your  mother,  and  all  the  household, 
in  the  sad  calamity  that  has  now  fallen  upon  you. 

"  I  have  thought  that  there  was  no  man  of  his  age  in 
the  land  who  showed  a  higher  gift  in  certain  departments 
than  your  brother.  I  have  been  anticipating  for  him  a 
long  and  brilliant  career.  But  the  Almighty  had  some 
higher  work  for  him  to  do  in  another  field,  and  so  He  took 
him. 

"  The  loss  to  the  public  is  great,  but  no  one  can  tell 
what  a  terrible  void  has  been  left  in  the  family  circle. 
Only  time  and  the  nearer  prospect  of  meeting  those  who 
have  gone  before,  in  their  new  homes,  can  assuage  such 
grief. 

"  This  bereavement  seems  to  be  very  strange  and  inscru 
table  now,  but  by  and  by  we  shall  see  that  your  brother, 
after  all,  was  not  taken  away  prematurely.  He  may  have 
been  spared  some  great  trials,  and  as  he  had  ripened  early, 
he  was  early  transferred  to  a  world  where  no  further  trials 
or  disappointments  can  reach  us." 

These  words,  from  over  the  sea,  are  from  Sir  Charles 
Reed,  M.P.,  dated  September  2 : 

"  I  have  had  a  note  from  Julia  Lea  this  morning,  and 
straightway  I  have  had  a  long  look  at  the  lovely  portrait 


182  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

you  gave  me  in  1876.  The  sight  of  it  intensified  my 
grief  when  I  imagined  the  face  I  saw,  shrouded  in  sorrow 
for  the  loss  of  one  who,  though  but  slightly  known  by  me, 
was  greatly  admired  for  what  he  was,  and  for  the  promise 
of  what  he  was  to  be.  How  little  we  know !  At  Childs's 
dinner-table  he  was  the  centre  of  interest,  and  full  of  viva 
cious  wisdom.  He  looked  firm  and  strong,  and  I  marked 
him  as  one  of  your  country's  foremost  men,  for  he  spoke 
of  liberty  and  corruption  as  I  like  to  hear  the  patriot 
speak,  and  we  forgathered  then  in  true  sympathy. 

"  In  Paris  and  in  London  I  tried  in  vain  to  see  you 
both,  and  I  heard  of  your  terrible  voyage  and  sent  mes 
sages. 

"  In  the  midst  of  your  great  loss  I  will  refrain  from 
saying  more.  Human  sympathy  avails  but  little  in  the 
hour  of  such  crushing  sorrow,  but  it  may  please  you  to 
know  that  there  are  those  who  feel  for  you,  and  some  who 
desire,  from  a  distance,  to  bring  their  wreath  of  friendship 
and  lay  it  on  the  tomb  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown." 

The  poet  Longfellow  wrote  the  following  note  to  a 
member  of  Mr.  Brown's  family,  September  9,  1878 : 

"  I  thank  you  for  counting  me  among  those  who  sympa 
thize  with  you  in  your  great  loss,  and  for  sending  me  the 
photograph  of  Armitt  Brown,  and  the  various  eulogies 
called  forth  by  his  death. 

a  I  had  a  great  personal  regard  for  him,  and  a  high 
opinion  of  his  character  and  abilities.  When  such  a  man 
dies  it  is  not  only  a  private  loss  but  a  public  loss,  and  such 
it  is  felt  to  be  by  the  whole  community. 

"  I  beg  you  to  convey  to  Mrs.  Brown  my  warmest  and 
deepest  sympathy,  and  to  your  own  family  my  best  regard 
and  condolence." 


WORDS  OF  FRIENDS.  183 

Another  letter  from  across  the  sea,  dated  Monnetier, 
Savoy,  France,  September  12,  1878,  is  from  John  Welsh, 
Esq.,  our  recent  minister  to  England,  and  is  thus  feelingly 
expressed : 

"  Here,  in  a  recess  in  the  mountains,  with  Lake  Leman 
below  me,  whose  waters  are  ever  flowing  onward  to  the 
ocean  as  our  steps  are  moving  towards  eternity,  and  Mont 
Blanc  above  me,  whose  peaks  rise  toward  heaven  clothed 
in  garments  radiant  with  purity  as  resplendent  as  the  hopes 
of  the  future  which  fill  our  hearts,  I  desire  to  express  my 
sympathy  for  you  in  your  affliction,  an  affliction  so  heavy 
that  there  is  only  one  who  can  lighten  it,  and  to  Him 
I  trust  that  you  have  been  able  to  turn  in  humble  sub 
mission. 

"  In  common  with  all  who  knew  him  whom  we  mourn, 
I  have  looked  with  pride  and  pleasure  on  his  rising  pro 
gress,  marked  by  the  manifestation  of  the  purest  principles, 
the  manliest  conduct,  and  the  highest  aspirations,  and  had 
assigned  for  him  a  future  of  great  usefulness  and  honor. 

"It  is  otherwise,  and  he  has  left  us.  We  mourn  his 
loss.  He  was  beloved.  Your  heart  must  be  full  of  sad 
ness,  and  yet  what  joy  there  must  be  mingled  in  it  that 
you  are  the  mother  of  such  a  son,  one  whose  life  was 
marked  by  so  many  virtues  and  whose  death  is  so  univer 
sally  mourned. 

"  Pardon  me  for  my  intrusion,  but  I  cannot  withhold 
from  you  this  feeble  tribute  to  the  memory  of  one  who  was 
possessed  of  my  warmest  regard,  and  the  expression  of  my 
deepest  sympathy  for  all  those  who  are  now  suffering 
under  the  bereavement  caused  by  the  death  of  my  friend, 
Henry  Armitt  Brown." 

We  add  but  one  more  of  these  "  words  of  friends," — 


184  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

from  the  venerable  Judge  John  J.  Piiikerton,  dated  West 
Chester,  March  31,  1879  : 

"  My  absence  at  the  Supreme  Court  has  prevented  an 
earlier  acknowledgment  of  your  kindness  in  sending  me 
the  Valley  Forge  oration. 

"  I  am  under  special  obligations  to  you  for  it,  as  I  had 
already  received  from  Harry  all  else  that  he  had  printed, 
and  this  only  was  needed  to  make  my  collection  com 
plete. 

"  My  relations  with  your  brother  were  exceedingly  cor 
dial,  and  my  affection  for  him  great.  His  death  created  a 
personal  grief  not  easily  put  into  words.  To  the  State  it 
was  a  loss  hard  to  repair ;  as  a  common  friend  wrote  me 
about  him,  '  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  our  moral  forces  are 
diminished/  To  all  of  us,  who  knew  him,  he  was  an  ex 
ample  of  the  supreme  value  of  noble  conduct  and  high 
demeanor." 

The  formal  notices  which  succeed,  are  culled  from  a  great 
number  of  similar  expressions  of  public  regard.  In  them 
there  will  be  seen  to  be  the  same  manifestation  of  an  un 
feigned  sorrow  for  a  great  public  loss,  and  a  desire  that  the 
lesson  of  such  a  life  might  not  all  be  lost.  We  print  them, 
as  we  have  done  the  letters  which  have  gone  before,  because 
they  show  unconsciously,  and  better  than  we  are  able  in 
any  other  way  to  bring  out,  the  profound  impression  made 
on  the  community  of  the  character  of  a  genuine  man. 
While  eulogistic  they  have  the  stamp  of  thorough  sin 
cerity.  9 

The  "In  Memoriam"  verses  of  Miss  Caroline  L.  Mitchell, 
of  Burlington,  New  Jersey,  which  were  composed  the  very 
hour  that  the  sad  news  reached  her,  and  which  have  in 
them  a  heart-glow,  merit  the  first  place : 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  185 

"  Only  a  short  while  since  a  voice  sublime 

Told  of  the  deeds  of  mighty  men  of  old, 
Waking  fresh  echoes  from  the  ancient  time, 
Telling  a  story — never  idly  told — 

11  Of  the  brave  warriors  and  their  deeds  as  brave ; 

Of  wrong  and  suffering,  sorrows  sad,  yet  grand ; 
Of  freedom  conquered  and  the  freemen's  grave, 
Link'd  with  the  deathless  story  of  our  land. 

"  And  they  who  listened  felt  their  pulses  thrill 

And  joyed  to  follow  on  that  clear-voiced  call, 
For  thousands  hearkened,  in  a  hush  as  still 
As  that  which  follows  on  the  thunder-fall. 

"  But  now  !  oh  voice  sublime,  oh  voice  most  true, 

Break  through  this  silence  which  now  seals  your  tone ; 
Tell  those  who  know  that  honor  is  your  due 

Of  the  fair  life, — of  death  which  you  have  known. 

"  Tell  us,  oh  voice  sublime, — from  out  the  light 

Which  floods  this  silence, — why  our  feet  are  set 
To  stumble  lonely  in  this  awful  night, 
Where  all  things  but  our  weeping  we  forget ; 

"  Tell  us  why,  for  a  time,  upon  the  plane  of  life 

Your  tones  rang  clear,  in  swift,  responsive  call ; 
And  when  death  came,  and,  after  solemn  strife, 
Wrapped  silently  your  joy  and  grace  from  all ; 

11  Tell  us  from  Paradise,  in  wards  of  love, — 

The  God  we  worship  knows  and  shares  our  grief, — 
Oh,  tell  us  of  His  cross ;  that  through  His  wounds, 
To  our  sad  hearts,  may  come  some  sweet  relief. 

"  God  keeps  His  own !     Then  let  His  blessing  fall 

On  you — in  death  at  rest — in  measure  large. 
Life  loses  and  Death  wins  !     His  bugle-call 

Warns  the  brave  warriors  of  the  coming  charge. 
13 


186  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"  Peace  be  your  portion,  till  the  voice  of  God 

Calls  on  His  own  to  leave  the  grave  and  live, — 

Then,  voice  sublime,  make  answer, — while  the  '  rod 

And  staff'  of  God  'support  and  comfort'  give." 

NEW  ROCHELLE,  NEW  YORK. 

Hardly  less  promptly  appeared  the  following  apprecia 
tive  article  in  the  Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin  of  August 
22,  1878 : 

"  No  sadder  news  has  been  chronicled  for  many  a  day 
than  that  which  announced  yesterday  the  death  of  Henry 
Armitt  Brown.  The  terrible  nature  of  the  disease  with 
which  he  wrestled  so  long  made  this  catastrophe  seem  very 
probable ;  but  anticipation  of  the  end  has  robbed  it  of  none 
of  its  mournfulness  now  that  it  has  come.  It  only  remains 
for  those  who  have  to  note  the  removal  of  this  gifted  young 
man  from  the  places  that  have  known  him,  to  give  expression 
to  the  sense  of  loss  which  is  felt  by  every  one  who  had  an 
opportunity  of  estimating  his  character  and  his  intellectual 
ability,  and  of  observing  the  promise  that  the  future  had 
for  him  of  high  achievement  and  honorable  fame.  The 
language  of  eulogy  too  often  is  strained  when  the  dead  are 
spoken  of;  but  here  was  a  man  for  whom  the  warmest 
epithets  of  praise  alone  are  fit,  and  who  deserves  a  kindlier 
epitaph  than  any  that  can  be  written  for  him.  It  was  one 
of  his  best  qualities  that  the  praise  which  was  heaped  upon 
him  during  his  life  never  ministered  visibly  to  his  pride. 
He  died  at  thirty-three,  after  having  won  by  sheer  force  of 
intellect  and  character  such  triumphs  as  few  men  in  middle 
life  can  boast  of;  and  yet  he  bore  his  honors  meekly.  His 
head  was  never  turned  by  his  successes.  His  manner  was 
always  suave,  his  courtesy  to  the  humblest  was  never  less 
refined  than  when  he  mingled  with  the  greatest.  If  it 
happened  that  he  could  help  some  less  fortunate  man  who 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  187 

struggled  upon  a  pathway  which  he  had  climbed  with  ease, 
there  was  always  an  extended  hand  and  a  word  of  cheer. 
He  had  too  large  a  soul  for  flattery  to  hurt.  He  was  far 
too  great  a  man  to  permit  the  littleness  of  vanity  to  make 
him  heedless  of  the  obligations  of  his  kinship  with  the 
lowliest  of  his  fellows. 

"  To  most  men  who  read  of  his  death  he  was  known  only 
as  the  scholar  and  orator ;  and  none  who  ever  heard  him 
doubted  the  fairness  of  his  claim  to  the  distinction  which 
came  to  him.  His  natural  gifts  were  extraordinary ;  but 
he  used  them  well.  He  made  so  close  approach  to  perfec 
tion  because  he  strove  valiantly  to  reach  a  high  ideal.  He 
was  a  hard  student,  a  toiler  who  realizes  that  the  best  con 
summation  follows  ever  with  the  greatest  effort.  His  style 
seemed  the  most  fitting  that  could  have  been  chosen  for 
his  purpose.  He  wove  the  fabric  of  his  speeches  with  dain 
tiest  skill,  accompanying  the  cogent  argument  with  pictures 
which  were  full  of  vivid  power.  Some  of  his  descriptions 
of  scenes  that  have  come  to  us  famous  from  the  old  time 
are  elaborated  so  artfully,  with  so  much  picturesque  detail, 
that  the  figures  are  rounded  before  the  eye  and  crowned 
with  a  semblance  of  reality.  The  reader  of  his  speeches 
feels  his  power  to  conjure  up  the  people  and  the  things  of 
the  past ;  but  the  full  value  of  his  ability  in  this  respect 
can  be  estimated  alone  by  those  who  have  heard  him  when 
he  was  his  own  interpreter.  He  was  a  great  orator.  If  he 
had  lived  it  is  possible  that  he  might  have  taken  rank  among 
the  very  greatest.  There  was  a  grandeur  of  method,  a 
largeness  of  style,  an  excellence  of  gesture,  and  an  exquisite 
intonation  which  enabled  him  to  move  an  audience  deeply. 
The  unskilled  who  heard  him  marvelled  at  his  power,  but 
he  numbered  among  the  warmest  of  his  admirers  men  who 
themselves  had  no  mean  skill  in  the  art  of  eloquence. 


188  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"  But  he  was  far  more  than  a  charming  writer  and  a 
noble  orator.  He  was  a  man  who  had  high  aims  from  his 
early  youth.  Not  only  did  he  covet  for  himself,  at  a  time 
when  most  young  men  are  pursuing  pleasure,  such  distinc 
tion  as  he  attained,  but  he  determined  within  his  soul  that 
he  would  strive  for  better  things  for  his  country.  He 
loathed  the  corruption  and  trickery  that  have  poisoned  our 
politics,  and  one  of  the  first  aspirations  of  what  may  be 
called  his  public  life  was  toward  reform.  Perhaps  the 
method  he  preferred  was  not  the  wisest  or  surest  to  attain 
the  desired  end.  But  his  wish  was  ardent  and  his  effort  was 
sincere.  He  never  surrendered  his  hope  of  better  things 
to  come,  or  yielded  his  purpose  to  expend  his  energies  in 
their  behalf.  He  had  the  intensest  scorn  for  those  who  play 
upon  passion  and  prejudice  to  gain  promotion  in  public  life, 
and  he  hated  the  methods  which  enable  the  trickster  and 
the  demagogue  to  climb  to  the  high  places  of  the  nation. 
If  he  had  lived,  a  time  surely  would  have  been  when  the 
people,  acting  independently  of  partisan  machinery,  would 
have  chosen  him  to  speak  for  them  in  the  national  councils. 
And  there  were  those  who  believed  that  the  statesman  of 
the  better  days  to  come  might  be  such  as  he.  He  was  the 
kind  of  a  man  who  would  have  made  the  profession  of 
politics  worthy  of  the  adoption  of  the  pure  and  the  wise, 
and  would  have  shown  to  the  country  how  there  might  be 
politicians  who  should  be  moved  by  high  principles  and 
lofty  conceptions  of  patriotism  and  duty.  It  is  nearly  cer 
tain  that  he  looked  forward  to  such  a  career ;  certainly  his 
friends  believed  that  it  awaited  his  ripened  powers  and  the 
combination  of  events.  No  man  more  worthy  to  conduct 
such  a  reform,  or  better  fitted  to  stand  as  the  representative 
of  a  higher  code  of  political  morality,  has  ever  in  recent 
years  commanded  public  attention  in  this  city. 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  189 

"  But  these  great  possibilities  are  past.  There  is  no 
future  for  him  excepting  in  that  world  where  all  wrongs 
are  righted,  where  the  best  and  the  purest  are  always 
crowned,  and  where  that  which  defiles  and  makes  unclean 
has  no  abiding-place.  The  Divine  hand  that  led  him 
onward  here  toward  noble  things,  and  that  appeared  to  be 
shaping  him  for  a  great  and  splendid  destiny,  has  smitten 
him  while  his  task  seemed  hardly  yet  begun,  and  the  life 
that  was  so  full  of  promise  is  ended  in  the  grave.  If  we 
cannot  fathom  the  mystery  of  such  a  dispensation,  we  can 
be  glad  that  so  much  as  was  done  in  the  brief  span  of  this 
man's  existence  was  done  well ;  and  it  must  be  a  consola 
tion  to  those  to  whom  the  bereavement  brings  greatest 
sorrow,  that  the  life  which  has  closed  had  no  stain  upon  it, 
but  that  there  remains  among  those  who  observed  it  a 
memory  that  will  be  forever  fragrant." 

A  special  meeting  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the 
Municipal  Reform  Association  was  held  August  22  at 
the  office  of  John  J.  Ridgway,  Esq.,  Mr.  P.  Morris  Perot 
presiding,  and  Mr.  L.  P.  Ashmead  acting  as  secretary. 
The  following  resolutions,  presented  by  Mr.  Henry  C.  Lea, 
were  unanimously  adopted : 

11  Whereas,  Providence  has  seen  fit  to  remove  from  among  us  our 
friend  and  associate,  Henry  Armibt  Brown. 

"  Resolved,  That  we  deplore  his  loss  as  a  matter  not  merely  per 
sonal  to  ourselves,  but  as  a  misfortune  to  the  community  at  large, 
which  can  ill  afford  to  spare  one  whose  brilliant  intellect,  richly- 
cultured  mind,  lofty  aims,  and  chivalrous  courage  were  always  at 
the  service  of  the  public,  with  a  rare  disregard  of  self.  Spurning 
the  baser  arts  of  the  politician,  he  was  content  to  win  his  way  by 
the  force  of  his  high  gifts  and  purity  of  character,  preferring  that 
success  should  be  delayed  rather  than  obtain  it  by  means  inconsistent 
with  the  nicest  sense  of  honor.  Time  alone  was  lacking  to  win  for 


190  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

him  the  high  place  that  was  his  due  in  the  councils  of  the  nation, 
and  the  career  which  is  now  cut  short  would  have  been  a  conspicu 
ous  example  that  mediocrity  and  unscrupulous  self-seeking  are  not 
the  surest  requisites  for  success  in  our  public  life.  For  what  he  was 
we  mourn  him  ;  for  what  he  would  have  been  we  grieve  for  our  city 
and  our  country. 

"Resolved,  That  the  officers  of  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform 
Association  be  directed  to  convey  these  resolutions  to  the  family  of 
our  late  colleague,  with  the  assurance  of  our  deepest  sympathy  with 
them  in  their  irreparable  loss." 

The  following  is  a  report  taken  from  the  Philadelphia 
Times  of  August  26  of  a  bar-meeting  held  August  24 : 

"  Never,  probably,  in  the  history  of  the  Philadelphia 
bar  has  there  been  such  an  assemblage  of  the  lawyers  of 
this  city  as  gathered  together  on  Saturday  morning  in 
Room  C  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  to  do  honor  to 
the  memory  of  their  late  associate.  It  was  not  the  congre 
gation  of  the  friends  and  professional  intimates  of  the  de 
ceased  alone,  nor  a  meeting  held  simply  to  comply  with  the 
etiquette  of  the  Bar  Association,  but  rather  the  clustering 
together  of  legal  gentlemen  of  all  degrees  and  stations  to 
pay  an  earnest,  heartfelt  tribute  to  the  memory  of  one  who 
had  endeared  himself  to  all  by  his  honor,  his  manliness, 
his  culture,  and  his  manifold  accomplishments. 

"  Long  before  the  hour  of  meeting,  eleven  o'clock,  the 
members  of  the  bar  entered  the  court-room,  and  with 
solemn  countenances  and  baled  breath  quietly  recounted 
reminiscences  of  the  life  of  Mr.  Brown,  and  told  and  re 
told  instances  of  his  many  excellencies  and  good  qualities. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  feeling  of  sadness  pervading  all 
present,  which  fully  betokened  the  love  and  admiration 
held  for  the  young  and  gifted  lawyer  and  orator  who  had 
died. 

"  A  thing  was  noticed  about  this  bar-meeting  which  has 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  191 

probably  never,  certainly  very  seldom,  occurred  before, 
and  that  was  the  presence  of  many  gentlemen  outside  of  the 
profession,  who  had  come  to  testify  by  that  presence  their 
respect  for  the  object  of  the  meeting.  Leading  merchants 
and  bankers  with  whom  Mr.  Brown  had  been  associated 
in  the  Reform  movement  were  there.  Several  clergymen 
and  members  of  the  medical  profession  were  in  attend 
ance.  Among  these  last  none  was  more  conspicuous  than 
the  tall  form  and  fine  head  of  the  distinguished  sur 
geon,  Professor  Gross.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  leading 
member  of  the  Baltimore  bar,  his  son-in-law,  Mr.  Ben 
jamin  F.  Horwitz.  The  judges  of  the  Common  Pleas  and 
Orphans7  Court  were  there, — all  who  were  in  town, — 
Judges  Peirce,  Thayer,  Biddle,  Hare,  Ashman,  and  Pen- 
rose,  while  Judge  Sharswood,  of  the  Supreme  Court,  came 
to  preside  and  speak  the  first  words.  A  few  of  the  mem 
bers  of  the  bar  who  clustered  around  these  gentlemen  may 
be  mentioned :  George  W.  Biddle,  Isaac  Hazlehurst,  W. 
Heyward  Drayton,  William  B.  Mann,  John  K.  Findlay 
and  his  partner  Mr.  Thomas,  Morton  P.  Henry,  Samuel 
A.  Dickson,  Wayne  MacVeagh,  George  Tucker  Bispham, 
Henry  Hazlehurst,  Richard  L.  Ashhurst,  Daniel  Dougherty, 
James  H.  Heverin,  Samuel  W.  Pennypacker,  John  J. 
Ridgway,  A.  Haller  Gross,  J.  Parker  Norris,  Max  Mcln- 
tyre,  Charles  W.  Warwick,  John  R.  Read,  Henry  C. 
Townsend,  Pierce  Archer,  Jr,.,  Thomas  J.  Ashton,  Francis 
Brewster,  Victor  Guillou,  James  Lynd,  Sussex  Davis, 
Robert  K  Willson,  Samuel  B.  Huey,  Charles  B.  Mc- 
Michael,  E.  Hunn  Hanson,  and  Lewis  Wain  Smith. 

"  Judge  Sharswood  in  taking  the  chair  spoke  but  a  few 
moments.  He  said : 

" '  My  brethren  of  the  bar  and  bench,  I  do  not  feel  like 
saying  anything  to  you  of  the  cause  of  our  assembling 


192  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

this  morning, — the  death  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown.  To 
me  it  is  one  of  the  saddest  occasions  at  which  I  have  ever 
been  present.  We  are  often  called  upon  to  express  our 
regret  at  the  death  of  men  who  have  attained  their  three 
score  years  and  ten.  On  such  occasions  there  has  always 
been  the  consolation  that  a  full  sheaf  has  been  gathered  to 
the  eternal  garner.  We  looked  upon  a  perfect  arch,  and 
were  only  called  to  lay  a  cap-stone  upon  it.  Here  it  is  dif 
ferent.  We  have  a  broken  column,  of  elegant  proportions, 
promising  to  be  a  glorious  structure,  suddenly  arrested,  and 
we  are  only  left  to  fancy  what  it  might  have  been.  We 
bow  to  a  mysterious  Providence,  and  all  that  the  survivors 
can  do  is  to  kneel  in  submission  to  the  will  of  Him  who 
seeth  the  end  from  the  beginning.  He  has  done  this,  as 
all  things  else,  in  wisdom  and  love.  I  shall  not  under 
take  to  anticipate  anything  regarding  the  life,  character, 
and  public  services  of  our  brother,  and  will  leave  that  to 
those  who  knew  him  more  intimately/ 

"At  the  conclusion  of  Judge  Sharswood's  address  Samuel 
A.  Dickson  presented  a  set  of  resolutions,  as  annexed : 

"  *  The  members  of  the  Philadelphia  bar  having  received  with 
profound  regret  the  announcement  of  the  death  of  Henry  Armitt 
Brown,  and  being  desirous  of  expressing  their  appreciation  of  his 
virtues  and  their  sense  of  the  loss  that  has  fallen  upon  themselves 
and  upon  the  community,  have 

" '  Resolved,  That  in  the  death  of  Mr.  Brown  the  profession  has 
lost  one  of  its  most  brilliant  members,  whose  success  in  the  field  of 
eloquence  has  not  only  gained  a  high  reputation  for  himself,  but  has 
added  largely  to  the  renown  of  the  Philadelphia  bar. 

"  '  Resolved,  That  Mr.  Brown's  career  has  exhibited  one  of  the 
most  striking  instances  in  the  annals  of  the  bar  of  the  early  and 
rapid  attainment  of  high  and  honorable  distinction.  In  less  than 
ten  short  years  he  made  himself  one  of  the  first  orators  of  the  coun 
try,  one  of  the  foremost  citizens  of  the  community  in  which  he  lived, 
and  one  of  the  prominent  figures  to  which  all  lovers  of  good  govern- 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  193 

ment  and  unselfish  patriotism  instinctively  turned  for  advice,  en 
couragement,  and  aid. 

"  '  Resolved,  That  while  it  is  true  that  Mr.  Brown's  eminence  was 
chiefly  gained  by  his  labors  outside  of  the  immediate  sphere  of  pro 
fessional  exertion,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  same  high  qualities 
would  have  brought  success  Jiad  circumstances  and  choice  inclined 
him  to  give  himself  up  to  the  practice  of  his  profession.  The  leisure 
afforded  him  by  inherited  wealth  was  not  spent  in  idleness  nor  sloth. 
He  lived  laborious  days  to  fit  himself  for  his  work.  His  learning 
was  wide  and  liberal,  and  his  mind  was  stored  with  "  the  great 
thoughts  and  fine  sayings  of  the  great  men  of  all  ages;1'  but  the 
ripe  culture  gained  from  foreign  travel  and  classical  studies  did  not 
dim  nor  dull  his  love  for  his  country  nor  her  institutions.  In  all  of 
his  orations  and  addresses  he  never  spoke  for  self  nor  thought  of 
self,  and  it  was  this  that  lent  the  most  irresistible  charm  to  his 
oratory.  Through  all  his  words  there  shone  the  clear,  brave  spirit 
of  the  courageous  and  high-minded  gentleman,  who  was  pleading 
for  the  cause  of  good  government,  or  seeking  to  revive  the  memories 
of  the  loftier  and  purer  patriotism  of  the  past.  To  those  who  will 
turn  again  to  the  orations  delivered  in  Carpenters'  Hall  and  at  Val 
ley  Forge,  it  will  not  seem  extravagant  to  apply  to  him  his  own 
eulogy  upon  the  great  orator  of  the  Revolution :  "  Through  all 
descending  time  his  countrymen  shall  repeat  his  glowing  words,  and 
inspire  in  the  hearts  of  men  to  be  that  love  of  liberty  which  filled 
his  own." 

"  '  Resolved,  That  we  tender  to  the  family  of  our  departed  friend 
the  assurance  of  our  profound  sympathy,  and  that  a  committee  of 
seven  be  appointed  to  communicate  a  copy  of  these  resolutions.' 

"Daniel  Dougherty,  with  whom  Mr.  Brown  studied 
law,  seconded  the  resolutions  at  considerable  length  and 
with  much  feeling.  He  said  : 

" i  The  sad  and  solemn  duty  devolves  on  me,  gentlemen 
of  the  bar,  of  formally  announcing  to  you  the  demise  of 
Henry  Armitt  Brown.  Struck  down  by  typhoid  fever, 
he  struggled  for  two  months,  alternately  rallying  and  re 
lapsing,  until  Wednesday  last,  when  his  brief  yet  bright 
career  terminated  on  earth,  to  begin,  I  hope,  an  endless 


194  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

home  in  heaven.  The  journals  of  the  city  have  given 
full  details  of  his  birth,  parentage,  and  education.  As  a 
man  he  was  familiar  to  all  of  us.  Philadelphians,  not 
only  at  home  but  who  are  sojourning  in  different  parts  of 
our  country  and  abroad,  will  learn  this  deplorable  intelli 
gence  with  sorrow  deep  and  heartfelt.  I  knew  him,  Mr. 
Chairman,  from  his  youth.  I  watched  with  affectionate 
pride  the  bright  boy  develop  into  the  brilliant  man,  and 
looked  forward  with  fond  anticipations  to  see  him  one  of 
America's  illustrious  citizens.  He  was  the  most  conspicu 
ous  young  man  in  Philadelphia,  and  the  one  most  likely  in 
the  future  to  fill  a  large  space  in  the  general  eye.  Though 
not  officially  announced,  it  was  well  known  that  Secretary 
of  State  Evarts  had  offered  him  the  position  of  Second 
Assistant  Secretary.  As  a  writer  he  was  concise  and  elegant, 
adapting  his  style  to  the  subject,  light  and  airy  if  the  theme 
were  so ;  severe  and  grave  if  the  importance  of  the  com 
position  demanded  it.  His  speeches  in  his  few  important 
cases  at  the  bar  elicited  encomiums  from  the  bench  and 
ranked  him  as  a  rising  orator.  His  lectures,  and  his  polit 
ical  and  miscellaneous  addresses,  extended  wide  his  popu 
larity,  and  were  earning  for  him  a  national  reputation. 
His  oration  at  Carpenters'  Hall,  in  the  effect  its  delivery 
had  upon  his  hearers,  and  its  glowing  eloquence,  mark  it  as, 
without  a  single  exception,  the  most  masterly  effort  called 
forth  by  our  Centennial  anniversaries/ 

"  Speaking  qf  Mr.  Brown's  earnest  advocacy  of  munici 
pal  reform,  Mr.  Dougherty  said  : 

"  '  The  emoluments  of  office  had  no  charm  for  him.  He 
was  without  the  weakness  that  attends  ambition ;  he  would 
not  stoop  that  he  might  rise;  he  would  not  court  the 
schemers  that,  alas  for  our  country,  stand  between  the 
people  and  public  honors.  He  neither  could  be  flattered 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  195 

by  the  smiles  nor  bribed  by  the  favors  of  those  who  have 
usurped  the  distribution  of  offices.  He  would  not  sacrifice 
his  independence  by  shaping  his  opinions  to  suit  the  de 
signs  of  partisans.  He  was  conscientious  in  his  convictions, 
and  fearless  and  defiant  in  battling  for  the  right.  Over 
all  his  public  and  private  traits  there  shone  the  serene 
beauty  of  the  gentleman.  Many  years  ago  I  heard  his 
father  say  that  it  had  been  his  aim  to  give  his  children  a 
happy  childhood.  He  did  more, — he  implanted  in  his  sons 
the  seeds  of  noble  manhood.  If  Harry,  as  his  intimates 
endearingly  called  him,  had  lived,  he  would  have  filled  a 
lofty  niche  as  one  who  joined  to  the  possession  of  shining 
talents,  sterling  qualities  that  recall  heroic  days,  and  who 
dedicated  all  to  truth,  virtue,  and  patriotism.  I  dare  not 
dwell  on  his  home  and  his  mother's  home,  both  now  deso 
late.  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  speak  of  our  more  than 
friendship,  and  close  by  seconding  the  resolutions.' 

"  Hon.  Wayne  MacVeagh  next  arose.  He  was  so  com 
pletely  overcome  by  his  feelings  that  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  he  could  speak  the  few  words  he  had  to  say  in  behalf 
of  the  memory  of  his  dead  friend.  He  said : 

" c  I  cannot  refrain  from  taking  part  in  this  meeting, 
and  yet  I  cannot  say  anything  satisfactory  to  the  bench 
and  the  bar.  Between  Mr.  Brown  and  myself  existed  the 
most  intimate  relations,  and  I  am  justified  in  saying  that  I 
knew  him  thoroughly.  I  rise  to  say  only  that  of  his  beauty 
of  character  and  patriotism  the  whole  truth  will  never  be 
told.  A  bold  and  ripe  scholar  and  an  orator  and  patriot 
who  thought  always  of  his  country  and  not  of  himself, 
and  a  stainless  gentleman, — all  these  he  was.  I  can  say 
no  more  of  him.  I  loved  him  too  dearly  and  I  knew  him 
too  intimately.  I  am  therefore  only  listening  to  his  praise 
from  the  lips  of  others.' 


196  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

"  Henry  Hazlehurst,  a  playmate,  schoolfellow,  and  life 
long  friend  of  Mr.  Brown,  told  of  his  having  been  asso 
ciated  in  his  first  case  with  him,  and  turning  to  the  chairman, 
he  continued : 

" e  I  have  often  heard  you,  sir,  speak  of  his  distinguished 
success  on  that  occasion  before  a  judge  who  is  now  your 
own  associate  in  the  Supreme  Court.  It  was  not  the  formal 
and  courteous  recollection  of  counsel,  but  the  wise  and  just 
appreciation  of  a  man  who  promised  to  fill  a  place  that  was 
vacant  at  the  bar.  Had  he  lived,  that  promise  would  have 
been  faithfully  kept,  and  as  a  forensic  orator  Mr.  Brown 
would  have  made  it  our  pride  to  tell  of  his  triumphs.  But 
he  did  live  to  advocate  the  greatest  of  all  causes,  pure  and 
just  municipal  administration,  and  at  a  time  when  every 
word  he  spoke  brought  encouragement  and  assurance,  he 
won  his  highest  honors.  I  know  of  no  eulogy  now  so  fit 
ting  to  be  spoken  in  this  distinguished  presence  as  was  con 
tained  in  the  message  which  announced  to  me  his  death. 
The  scrap  of  paper  said,  "  Died  at  noon."  In  every  sense 
he  died  with  the  freshness  of  morning  upon  him,  without  a 
disappointment,  before  envy  had  time  to  speak,  and  while 
every  man's  hand  was  stretched  out;  at  home  and  among 
"  troops  of  friends"  he  passed  away.  We  must  not  call  him 
dead.  Let  us  say  that  "at  mid-day,  on  the  King's  High 
way,  there  met  him  an  angel  in  the  way." J 

"  President  Judge  Hare  was  the  next  speaker. 

" '  While  this  is  no  ordinary  occasion/  he  remarked,  '  I 
cannot  do  more  than  touch  upon  its  cause.  Henry  Armitt 
Brown  was  a  natural-born  orator,  and  possessed  all  the  neces 
sary  gifts  to  persuade  and  sway  his  fellow-men.  He  was  a 
representative  man,  and  one  of  whom  the  city  was  proud. 
When  he  rose  to  speak  his  first  utterances  were  received 
with  pleasure,  and  regret  followed  when  he  closed.7 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  197 

"  His  Honor  rehearsed  the  attending  circumstances  of 
Mr.  Brown's  first  public  speech,  and  concluded  with : 

" c  He  had  a  noble  purpose  to  serve  the  public  and  his 
fellows,  and  with  his  accomplishments  what  might  he  not 
have  accomplished  ?' 

"  George  T.  Bispham  followed  in  a  brief  speech,  closing 
with  the  following  tribute : 

" '  I  never  knew  a  man  for  whose  friendship  so  many 
men  were  eager,  or  one  whose  friendship  when  gained  was 
so  valuable.  His  loss  to  the  bar  and  his  friends  is  irrepar 
able/ 

"  Samuel  W.  Pennypacker  spoke  as  follows : 

" '  It  was  my  fortune  to  have  been  nearer  to  Mr.  Brown 
than  perhaps  any  other  of  his  friends  among  the  young  bar 
during  the  preparation  of  his  last  and  probably  his  greatest 
work.  After  he  had  been  invited  to  make  the  oration  at 
Valley  Forge,  which  he  considered  to  be  the  most  impor 
tant  of  all  the  Pennsylvania  celebrations,  he  came  to  me 
because  of  my  acquaintance  with  the  locality.  Together, 
only  four  months  ago,  we  examined  the  entrenchments 
there  and  rode  to  the  Paoli  and  the  Warren  Tavern,  and 
following  the  track  of  the  British  army,  crossed  the  Schuyl- 
kill  at  Girdont  Ford.  Together,  little  more  than  two  months 
ago,  we  read  over  the  completed  oration.  The  assistance  I 
was  able  to  give  him  was  little  indeed,  but  the  opportunity 
it  afforded  me  of  getting  a  closer  insight  into  his  character 
I  shall  always  cherish  among  the  happiest  memories  of  my 
life.  The  Valley  Forge  oration  is  beyond  question  the  finest 
which  the  Centennial  anniversaries  called  forth,  and  as  an 
artistic  production  is  a  marvel.  With  patient  industry  and 
a  determination  born  of  enthusiasm  he  thoroughly  mastered 
the  subject, — topographically  and  historically.  With  clear 
insight  he  caught  the  true  inspiration  of  the  scenes  of  that 


198  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

dreary  winter.  A  more  beautiful  picture  than  his  contrast 
between  the  ragged  Continentals  upon  the  bleak  hills  and 
the  royalists  amid  the  luxury  of  the  city  could  not  be 
limned.  And  for  two  hours  and  a  half  the  people,  at  the 
close  of  a  wearisome  day  of  exercises,  stood  up  and  listened. 
A  very  capable  historical  critic  has  said  to  me  that  there  is 
no  more  that  can  be  added  to  the  story  of  Valley  Forge. 
And  hereafter,  in  the  ages  to  come,  when  men  look  back 
with  veneration  towards  the  heroes  who  suffered  and  died 
there,  the  young  orator,  whose  earnestness  to  do  justice  to 
their  memories  so  sadly  shortened  his  own  career,  cannot  be 
forgotten.  Surely  some  of  their  renewed  glory  belongs  to 
him.  The  sorrow  which  I  feel  in  his  early  death  is  partly 
a  selfish  grief,  partly  regret  at  his  broken  hopes,  now  for 
ever  ended  here,  but  beyond  all,  the  loss  to  my  native  State. 
We  have  many  men  who  are  capable  and  pure,  but  they 
have  eaten  of  the  lotos  and  the  spear  has  dropped  from 
their  nerveless  hands.  With  his  strength  and  his  ambition 
he  could  not  have  been  kept  from  the  national  councils ; 
but  he  is  dead,  and  the  fruits  we  were  promised  we  shall 
never  gather/ 

"  Judge  Biddle  recounted  the  circumstances  of  an  appeal 
made  by  Mr.  Brown  before  him  in  mitigation  of  a  certain 
sentence : 

" '  I  was  not  swayed  in  my  judgment  by  the  appeal/ 
said  the  judge,  'but  I  could  not  fail  but  recognize  its 
beauty  and  pathos.  A  great  distinctive  characteristic  of 
Mr.  Brown  was  his  manliness.  He  took  his  views  and 
shaped  his  course  from  the  earlier  statesmen  of  the  country, 
and  if  he  had  been  spared  he  would  have  met  many  of  the 
issues  of  the  day.' 

"  Judge  Peirce  followed. 

"He  remarked:    'Mr.  Brown  had  the  courage  of  his 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  199 

convictions, — a  rare  quality, — and  was  the  steadfast  oppo 
nent  of  corruption  and  wrong.  In  the  death  of  such  a 
man  the  community  has  sustained  a  loss,  but  the  example 
of  his  life  is  not  lost,  and,  though  dead,  he  yet  should 
speak  from  the  grave  and  move  young  men  to  fill  the 
break  left  vacant,  and  this  being  done  it  cannot  be  said 
that  he  died  in  vain/ 

"  John  J.  Ridgway  closed  the  addresses  of  the  day,  re 
counting  the  circumstances  attending  the  illness  of  the 
deceased,  and  spoke  eloquently  of  his  manliness  and  purity 
of  purpose. 

"  The  following  despatch  from  Mr.  McClure  was  read 
by  Mr.  Lewis  Wain  Smith : 

"  ;  MINNEQUA,  August  22. 

" '  JAMES  H.  HEVERIN, — I  cannot  be  present  to  join  the 
members  of  the  Philadelphia  bar  on  Saturday  in  giving 
expression  to  the  profound  sense  of  bereavement  that  the 
untimely  death  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown  has  created  in 
the  circle  of  his  professional  brethren.  He  will  be  lamented 
as  the  most  gifted  of  all  his  associates,  and  he  will  long 
live  in  friendship's  memories  as  one  of  the  bravest,  noblest, 
and  best  of  men. 

"'A.  K.  McCLUBE.' 

"  The  meeting  then  adjourned." 

The  subjoined  brief  piece  came  out  in  the  Sunday 
Transeript : 

"  Mr.  Brown  was  a  politician  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
term,  and  none  the  less  so  because  he  ignored  the  primaries 
and  sought  only  to  enforce  his  views  when  the  candidates 
were  selected  and  were  before  the  people  for  election  or 
rejection.  His  oratory  and  his  masterly  command  of  the 


200  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

language  enabled  him  to  discuss  issues  and  questions  in 
terse  and  vigorous  English,  but  he  failed  to  recognize  that 
higher  duty  of  the  citizen, — to  attend  the  delegate  elections. 
Again  and  again  has  Mr.  Brown  denounced  in  scathing 
phrases  the  supineness  of  the  voters  who  allowed  their 
delegates  to  be  selected  without  their  knowledge  and  with 
out  their  sanction.  But  did  he  ever  go  down  to  the  depths 
and  seek  to  discover  the  true  cause  of  all  the  political  woes 
which  he  depicted  in  such  glowing  language?  No.  He 
was  a  dilettante.  He  preferred,  like  many  others,  to  dis 
cuss  the  evils  above  without  reference  to  those  below  the 
surface,  a*nd  took  no  active  part  in  that  department  where 
delegates  are  made  or  elected  and  where  candidates  are 
selected." 

The  following,  under  the  heading  "The  Honor  that 
Endures,"  from  the  Philadelphia  Times,  August  26,  is  in 
some  sort  a  reply  to  the  above : 

"  The  tributes  of  many  of  the  partisan  organs  to  the  in 
tegrity,  attainments,  and  political  efforts  of  the  late  Henry 
Armitt  Brown  must  attract  the  attention  of  intelligent 
readers.  He  was  of  the  class  of  resolute  men  against 
whose  teachings  in  modern  politics  the  mere  partisan  organs 
were  tuned  to  their  steadiest  pitch,  and  the  triumph  of  his 
dream  of  a  purified  political  system  was  what  they  most 
adroitly  and  persistently  antagonized,  and  what  they  most 
feared  as  the  inevitable  end  of  their  mission.  The  journal 
that  was  ever  to  the  front  in  the  effort  to  prove  that  Mr. 
Brown  was  always  doing  the  right  thing  at  the  wrong  time 
and  in  the  wrong  way,  and  which  has  long  been  trained  to 
the  obedience  that  treated  every  appeal  for  reform  as  an 
affront  to  the  party,  now  tells  how  the  time  might  have 
come  when  Mr.  Brown  would  have  spoken  for  Philadelphia 
in  Congress,  and  felicitates  itself  on  the  promise  of  such 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  201 

honors  in  store  for  the  one  for  whom  every  good  citizen 
mourns  to-day.  Doubtless  the  time  would  have  come,  but 
it  would  have  been  only  when  machine  politicians  and 
machine  organs  had  perished  from  our  contests.  The  Sun 
day  Transcript,  with  more  candor,  strikes  the  average  dis 
tinction  between  the  faithful  and  eloquent  reformer  and 
the  leaders  he  antagonized,  as  it  explains  what  it  regards 
as  the  failure  of  Mr.  Brown  as  a  politician  by  reminding 
us  that  he  failed  to  attend  the  primary  elections.  Doubt 
less  Henry  Armitt  Brown  did  not  trouble  himself  to  attend 
political  primaries,  and  none  could  better  explain  why  he 
so  abstained  than  the  shrewd  and  well-schooled  'leader  in 
such  contests  who  presides  over  the  editorial  columns  of 
that  journal.  Mr.  Brown  was  no  novice  in  anything  of 
which  patient  research,  keen  observation,  and  intelligent 
appreciation  of  men  could  advise  him,  and  he  well  knew 
that  a  half-score  of  regular  primary  managers  would  carry 
any  precinct  at  a  primary  conflict  against  five  times  their 
number  of  men  of  the  faith  of  Mr.  Brown,  even  if  all  of 
them  voted  solid  for  desired  candidates.  He  was  not  a 
great  man  in  the  battles  where  chicanery  and  brute  force 
were  the  implements  of  warfare,  and  therefore  'he  failed 
to  recognize  that  higher  duty  of  the  citizen, — to  go  to  the 
delegate  elections.7  In  that  regard  'he  was  a  dilettante/ 
because  he  knew  no  arts  but  those  of  honesty,  manly  effort, 
and  unswerving  devotion  to  the  right. 

"  Looking  back  over  the  local  battles  of  Philadelphia 
during  the  last  ten  years,  no  one  man  has  commanded  such 
enduring  tributes  from  his  antagonists  as  has  Henry  Armitt 
Brown ;  and  those  who  hasten  to  judge  his  campaigns  as 
failures  in  practical  results  are  strangely  insensible  to  the 
living  witnesses  and  varied  evidence  about  them.  There 
has  not  been  a  great  movement  against  official  wrong  and 

14 


202  MEMOIR    OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

for  a  better  rule  in  city,  State,  and  nation,  that  has  not  in 
spired  the  matchless  eloquence  of  the  fallen  champion  of 
reform,  and  slowly  but  surely  his  eiforts  were  ripening  into 
fruition.  Compare  the  authority  of  Philadelphia  to-day, 
with  the  authority  that  defiantly  ruled  when  he  first  braved 
power  and  resentment  to  demand  fidelity  and  competency 
in  public  trust,  and  there  can  be  none  so  blind  as  not  to 
appreciate  the  high  measure  of  practical  success  that  crowned 
his  brave  and  patriotic  eiforts.  To  the  young  men  of  the 
nation,  and  especially  of  his  native  city,  the  courage  and 
struggles  and  success  of  this  young  man  will  stand  out  in 
singleness  of  grandeur  as  the  example  of  a  life  that  left  his 
community  and  his  country  better  than  he  found  it.  Others 
won  honors  which  they  denied  to  his  conceded  merits,  but 
when  they  and  their  unseemly  honors  shall  have  reached 
generous  forgetfulness,  it  will  be  remembered  how,  in  the 
dark  days  of  misrule,  one  voice,  more  eloquent  than  all 
others,  gave  silvered  lining  to  the  clouds,  and  made  justice 
and  integrity  respected  in  the  councils  of  our  rulers/' 

Omitting  other  notices  from  papers  all  over  the  coun 
try,  we  give  this  letter,  which  appeared  in  the  Nation  of 
August  29 : 

"  To  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  NATION. 

"  SIR, — The  death  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown,  which  this 
community  so  deeply  deplores,  is  really  a  public  calamity ; 
and,  even  while  our  grief  is  freshest  and  keenest,  I  cannot 
forbear  from  stating  to  the  readers  of  the  Nation  some  of 
the  qualities  which  compelled  us  to  regard  him  as  a  man 
who  gave  great  promise  of  future  usefulness. 

"  He  was  a  ripe  scholar,  not  only  in  the  classics,  in  his 
tory,  philosophy,  and  literature,  but  he  also  spoke  and 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  203 

wrote  modern  languages  with  unusual  accuracy  and  ele 
gance.  He  possessed  special  aptitude  for  society,  and  was 
the  centre  of  every  social  gathering  of  which  he  was  a  part 
by  the  charm  of  his  conversation.  He  was  a  clear  and 
forcible  writer,  using  his  brilliant  rhetoric  and  his  admira 
ble  gift  of  humor  only  when  they  were  aids  to  the  enforce 
ment  of  his  argument.  He  was  entitled  to  be  called, 
without  any  exaggeration,  an  accomplished  orator.  His 
judgment  in  political  matters  was  so  excellent  that  he  could 
foresee  and  describe  many  of  the  grave  misfortunes  wrhich 
would  follow  the  attempt  to  consider  as  judicial  the  func 
tions  of  the  returning  boards  of  Florida  and  Louisiana. 
His  sense  of  honor  was  so  delicate  that  he  forbade  his 
friends  to  solicit  office  for  him,  declaring  that  he  could  not 
enjoy  it  unless  it  were  freely  conferred,  upon  the  ground  of 
his  fitness  for  it. 

"  And  above  and  beyond  all  these  claims  to  our  regard, 
the  words  which  Mr.  Burke  wrote  of  his  dead  son  exactly 
describe  him, — '  He  was  made  a  public  creature.'  His 
guiding  and  controlling  purpose  was  to  try  to  make  the 
government  of  his  country  purer  and  stronger  and  better 
in  all  ways  than  he  found  it.  I  need  hardly  add  that  he 
was  the  instinctive  foe  of  all  manner  of  baseness  and  cor 
ruption  in  our  politics,  or  that  he  was  as  chivalric  in  utter 
ing  his  convictions  as  he  was  conscientious  in  forming 
them.  The  simple  truth  is  that  he  never  had  any  trouble 
in  choosing  the  right  side  of  any  political  questions,  for  he 
never  regarded  it  as  a  possible  aid  of  his  own  ambition,  but 
simply  in  its  relation  to  the  public  welfare,  and  the  causes 
he  championed  furnish  the  best  evidence  of  the  manner  of 
man  he  was :  municipal  reform,  honest  money,  civil  ser 
vice  reform,  revenue  reform,  the  restoration  of  fraternal 
feelings  between  all  sections  of  the  country,  and  the  use  of 


204  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARM1TT  BROWN. 

the  lessons  of  the  Revolution  for  the  elevation  of  the  spirit 
of  our  public  life ;  for  these  great  labors  he  was  thoroughly 
equipped,  and  to  them,  if  he  had  been  spared  to  us,  he 
would  have  devoted  his  life. 

"  These  are  the  reasons  why  we  who  knew  and  loved 
him  feel  sure  that  not  only  this  city  and  State,  but  the 
whole  country  has  suffered  in  his  untimely  death,  for,  un 
fortunately,  these  other  words  of  Mr.  Burke  are  also  appli 
cable  :  ( At  this  exigent  moment  the  loss  of  a  finished  man 
is  not  easily  supplied.' 

"WAYNE  MACVEAGH. 

"  PHILADELPHIA,  August  28,  1878." 

From  the  proceedings  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical 
Society,  at  their  meeting  September  12,  1878,  we  make 
this  extract : 

"  The  president  (Hon.  Robert  C.  Winthrop)  then  said  : 

"'  Before  turning  to  other  topics,  I  am  unwilling  to 
omit  the  opportunity  of  mentioning  another  loss  to  his 
torical  literature,  which  has  occurred  within  a  few  weeks 
past. 

" '  I  had  made  a  memorandum,  in  my  notes  for  the 
present  meeting,  to  ask  the  concurrence  of  the  council  of 
our  society  in  proposing  the  name  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown, 
of  Philadelphia,  as  one  of  our  corresponding  members,  and 
I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  he  would  have  been  nomi 
nated  to-day. 

" {  He  will  be  remembered  by  many  of  us  as  the  eloquent 
young  Philadelphian  who  came  on  as  a  delegate  to  our 
Centennial  Tea-Party  Celebration,  in  December,  1873,  and 
made  an  admirable  address  at  Faneuil  Hall  on  that  oc 
casion.  In  the  following  year  he  delivered  a  really  bril 
liant  historical  discourse  in  Carpenters7  Hall,  Philadelphia, 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  205 

on  the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  meeting  of  the 
old  Congress  of  1774,  which  deservedly  attracted  great 
attention. 

"  <  In  December  last  he  delivered  another  historical  ora 
tion,  of  hardly  inferior  interest,  at  Burlington,  New  Jersey, 
in  commemoration  of  the  settlement  of  that  place  by  the 
Quakers.  More  recently  still,  he  had  been  engaged  to 
deliver  the  orations  on  the  Centennial  Anniversary  of  Val 
ley  Forge,  on  the  19th  of  June  last,  and  of  the  Battle  of 
Monmouth,  on  the  29th  of  the  same  month. 

" '  As  the  result  of  the  fulfilling  of  the  first  of  these 
engagements,  and  preparing  for  the  second,  he  was  struck 
down  with  a  fever,  from  which  he  did  not  recover. 

" '  He  died  on  the  21st  of  August  last,  in  the  thirty- 
fourth  year  of  his  age. 

"'Mr.  Brown  has  always  kindly  sent  me  everything 
which  he  printed,  and  I  have  never  failed  to  read  whatever 
he  sent ;  and  I  know  of  no  young  man  or  old  man,  of  his 
period,  who  has  exhibited  greater  power  or  skill  in  work 
ing  up  the  historical  materials  which  he  labored  with  so 
much  zeal  and  enthusiasm  in  collecting.  He  was  an  orator 
of  no  second  class,  and  his  sketches  and  illustrations  of  the 
scenes  and  events  which  he  depicted  were  most  felicitous 
and  impressive. 

" t  Had  his  life  and  health  been  prolonged,  he  could 
hardly  have  failed  to  rise  to  great  distinction ;  and  his  death 
at  so  early  an  age,  and  after  such  signal  evidences  of  his 
taste  and  talent  for  historical  research  and  description,  en 
title  him  to  be  remembered  in  our  records,  though  it  be  too 
late  to  inscribe  his  name  on  our  rolls. 

" '  I  am  glad  to  observe  a  statement  in  the  papers  that 
his  anniversary  addresses  are  to  be  made  up  into  a  memo 
rial  volume.' " 


206  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

In  his  annual  message,  in  January,  1879,  Governor 
Hartranft  made  a  graceful  allusion  to  three  Pennsylvanians 
who  had  died  during  the  previous  year, — H.  A.  Brown, 
Bayard  Taylor,  and  Morton  McMichael.  He  said  of  the 
first  of  these : 

"  The  country  has  suffered  the  loss  during  the  year  of 
three  distinguished  Pennsylvanians.  On  the  21st  day  of 
August,  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  Henry  Armitt 
Brown  died  at  Philadelphia.  He  belonged  to  public  life 
only  in  the  highest  sense  of  simple  citizenship,  for  he  held 
no  office,  except  the  high  position  of  a  leader  of  men,  and 
wielded  no  authority,  except  the  noble  influence  of  a  pure 
and  strong  life.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  had  just  com 
pleted  the  masterly  orations  on  Revolutionary  events,  upon 
which  his  reputation  as  a  scholar  and  orator  will  eventually 
rest,  after  the  personal  recollections  of  him  have  faded  into 
tradition." 

The  following  tribute  is  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  George 
William  Curtis : 

"  The  death  of  Henry  Armitt  Brown,  of  Philadelphia, 
is  more  than  a  sorrow  to  his  friends:  it  is  a  loss  to  the 
country.  He  was  a  young  man  of  a  lofty  sense  of  political 
duty  and  personal  honor,  of  force  and  purity  of  character, 
admirably  accomplished,  holding  sound  views  upon  the 
most  important  public  questions,  and  able  to  maintain  them 
with  unusual  eloquence  and  skill.  He  had,  no  doubt,  the 
power,  also,  of  scorning  the  mean  aspersions  and  insinua 
tions,  the  lies  and  taunts  and  ribaldry,  which  every  such 
man  encounters  from  those  whom  he  disturbs.  He  was, 
indeed,  a  type  of  the  American  who  best  understands  the 
true  value  of  American  principles  and  institutions. 

"  Mr.  Brown  did  what  every  young  American,  and  not 


PUBLIC  NOTICES.  207 

least  those  of  fortunate  circumstances  and  of  high  educa 
tion,  ought  to  do.  He  made  himself  acquainted  with 
public  affairs,  and  he  took  an  active  interest  in  politics. 
It  is  not  possible,  of  course,  that  every  man  in  the  country 
should  devote  his  life,  or  even  a  great  deal  of  time,  to 
politics;  but  he  should  have  sufficient  interest  and  knowl 
edge  and  independence  to  exercise  a  positive  and,  in  the  true 
sense,  conservative  influence  upon  them.  It  is  because  of  a 
general  feeling  that  men  like  Mr.  Brown  can  do  no  good  in 
politics  that  there  are  so  few  men  like  him  in  politics.  If 
there  really  be  no  need  of  them  in  our  system,  then  a 
republic  has  no  need  of  its  best  citizens.  But  one  man 
like  him,  earnest,  intelligent,  sagacious,  unselfish,  courage 
ous,  at  once  shows  by  what  he  does  alone  how  much  a 
hundred  such  men  together  might  do.  Demagogues  appeal 
only  to  passion  and  prejudice,  swaying  the  brute  force  of 
ignorance,  and  count  upon  a  numerical  majority.  Their 
reasoning  or  their  instinct  is,  that  the  mass  of  men  will 
always  be  venal  and  ignorant,  and  therefore  that  if  a  leader 
would  have  a  majority,  he  must  appeal  to  the  lowest  pas 
sions.  Men  like  Mr.  Brown  know  that  the  real  justifica 
tion  of  a  popular  government  is  the  fact  that  brute  force  is 
always  subordinated  to  brain  force,  and  that  immoral  brain 
force  has  no  advantage  even  with  ignorant  people.  No 
man  who  has  ever  faced  a  mob  really  feared  it  if  he  knew 
that  he  would  be  heard.  The  demagogue,  of  every  kind 
and  degree,  therefore,  tries  to  silence  his  opponent  by  insult, 
or  threat,  or  ridicule.  He  spurts  dirty  water,  believing  that 
a  decent  man  will  be  unwilling  to  stand  it.  But  if  a  man 
really  means  to  do  something,  he  will  not  heed  blackguards. 
"  Mr.  Brown's  abilities,  tastes,  and  circumstances  fitted  him 
so  well  for  public  life  that  his  death  is  the  loss  of  a  man  who 
might  have  been  of  conspicuous  service.  It  is  said  that  a 


208  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

high  official  position  was  open  to  him  had  he  cared  for  it. 
But  he  showed  always  that  his  concern  was  less  for  office 
than  for  a  real  influence.  And  it  is  always  questionable  in 
the  case  of  such  men  whether  they  do  not  lose  rather  than 
gain  influence  by  entering  official  life.  There  are  obviously 
two  ways  of  serving  the  public,  either  by  official  action  or 
by  criticising  properly  the  tone  and  methods  of  official 
action,  and  the  time  and  opportunity  necessary  for  the  last 
are  not  always  attainable  with  proper  fidelity  to  the  first. 
The  last  is  one  of  the  chief  functions  of  the  press,  and  in 
the  degree  that  it  is  honestly  performed  the  power  and 
consideration  of  the  press  increase.  It  was  in  such  sub 
jects  that  Mr.  Brown  was  interested,  and  for  such  debates 
that  he  was  especially  equipped.  We  had  no  personal 
acquaintance  with  him  that  would  authorize  us  to  speak  of 
delightful  qualities  and  charms  of  social  intercourse  known 
to  us  only  by  report.  But  we  sincerely  deplore  in  his  death 
the  loss  of  a  brave  and  sincere  American,  while  all  who  are 
striving,  each  in  his  own  way,  for 

*  nobler  modes  of  life, 
"With  sweeter  manners,  purer  laws,' 

will  surely  find  an  inspiration  in  the  remembrance  of  this 
young  fellow-laborer." 

The  thought  suggested  in  the  last  extract,  of  the  impor 
tant  r6le  that  the  independent  political  worker  may  play, 
expresses  one  of  the  rare  felicities  of  Mr.  Brown's  life. 
His  life  conclusively  proved  that  in  a  free  country  a  man 
of  brains  and  of  character  does  not  need  office ;  and,  above 
all,  that  he  need  not  be  an  office-seeker,  which  trade  is 
the  curse  of  our  land.  He  testified  to  the  fact  that  the 
citizen  is  a  power  in  himself,  and  that  he  requires  no  posi- 


CONCLUSION.  209 

tion  from  which  to  exert  his  power  other  than  the  popular 
system  in  which  he  is  set,  and  which  affords  him  all  the 
opportunity  he  wants  for  self-development. 

The  citizen  is  the  highest  object  of  the  republic.  He  is 
in  fact  its  noblest  product.  Men  of  brains  and  character 
are  often  greater  powers  as  citizens  than  they  would  be  as 
rulers.  They  are  raised  above  the  ordinary  motives  and 
temptations  which  assail  those  in  office,  and  yet,  as  men  of 
intellectual  breadth  and  moral  earnestness,  they  cannot  help 
studying  politics,  which  is  simply  the  science  of  men's  living 
together  in  the  State,  or  in  those  common  relations  that 
promote  their  best  public  and  private  well-being.  From 
such  citizens  flow  the  ideas  and  influences  which  conserve, 
purify,  and  mould  political  institutions.  If,  with  this  genius 
for  independent  political  thinking,  there  be  combined  a 
positive  talent  for  political  and  public  life,  then  we  have 
the  best  possible  material  for  making  statesmen. 

But  if  the  cultivated  portion  of  the  community — what 
the  Germans  call  Die  Gebildeten — by  the  very  conditions 
of  their  culture  are  to  be  shut  out  of  this  public  life,  then 
it  is  time  to  ask  to  what  is  education  tending,  and  what  is 
the  worth  of  our  higher  schools  of  learning  ?  The  progress 
of  science  itself  does  not  answer  this  question.  There  are 
interests  superior  even  to  the  advancement  of  knowledge. 
There  is  a  wider  interest,  a  larger  and  more  generous  con 
ception  of  humanity,  contained  in  the  idea  of  the  nation, 
than  in  the  idea  of  the  individual  man,  however  highly 
developed  by  culture.  The  students  in  our  universities 
should  steadfastly  resist  the  narrowing  influence  of  their 
training  in  any  specific  field  of  knowledge,  and  should  not 
permit  themselves  to  be  reared  in  that  intellectual  exclu- 
siveness  by  which  this  broader  instinct  of  humanity,  this 
grander  idea  of  public  spirit,  becomes  deadened. 


210  MEMOIR   OF  HENRY  ARMITT  BROWN. 

Culture  in  any  genuine  field  of  knowledge  ought  to  have 
a  most  liberalizing  effect  upon  the  nature ;  but,  unless  it  be 
accompanied  by  other  influences,  we  know  that  it  is  very  apt 
to  circumscribe  rather  than  enlarge  the  sympathies ;  and,  in 
a  democracy  above  all,  an  aristocracy  of  learning  may  be 
almost  as  offensive  as  an  aristocracy  of  rank,  or  of  wealth. 
But  when  this  wealth  of  culture,  when  these  rich  gifts  of 
knowledge,  are  meant  to  be  used  for  the  benefit  of  all,  are 
pervaded  by  the  idea  of  the  public  good,  then  study  is  lifted 
into  a  nobler  plane  of  work ;  then  the  higher  spirit  of 
humanity  comes  into  it,  and  the  old  narrow  forms  are  in 
fused  with  new  life  and  power. 

Young  men  in  our  American  colleges  should,  we  think, 
ever  look  forward  to  becoming  public  men,  the  avowed  and 
recognized  servants  of  the  republic;  and  they  should  act 
upon  the  principle  that  from  the  very  talents  intrusted  to 
them  they  are  expected  to  become  the  strong  stays  and 
helpers  of  the  commonwealth.  By  so  doing  they  will  fol 
low  in  his  footsteps  whose  life  has  been  imperfectly  set  forth 
in  these  pages,  and  who  fell  on  the  "  high  places  of  the 
field,"  to  make  more  room  for  them  to  follow. 


HISTORICAL  ORATIONS. 


ORATION 


DELIVERED    IX 


CAKPENTEES'    HALL, 

PHILADELPHIA, 

ON 

THE    ONE     HUNDKEDTH    ANNI YEESAEY 

OF    THE    MEETING   OP 

THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774. 


"  It  is  a  tale  brief  and  familiar  to  all ;  for  the  examples  by  which  you  may 
still  be  happy  are  to  be  found  not  abroad,  men  of  Athens,  but  at  home." 

DEMOSTHENES,  SD  OLYNTHIAC. 


ORATION. 


WE  have  come  here  to-day  in  obedience  to  that  natural 
impulse  which  bids  a  people  do  honor  to  its  past.  We 
have  assembled  to  commemorate  a  great  event, — one  of  the 
most  famous  in  our  history.  In  the  midst  of  prosperity 
and  profound  peace,  in  the  presence  of  the  honorable  and 
honored  Vice-President  of  the  United  States,  of  the  chosen 
rulers  of  the  people,  of  the  members  of  the  present  and 
other  Congresses — the  successors  of  the  statesmen  of  1774 
— of  the  representatives  of  the  learned  professions,  and  of 
every  department  of  human  enterprise  and  industry  and 
skill,  we  have  gathered  beneath  this  roof  to  celebrate,  with 
reverent  and  appropriate  services,  the  one  hundredth  anni 
versary  of  the  meeting  of  the  First  Continental  Congress. 

It  is  a  great  privilege  to  be  here,  and  we  have  to  thank 
the  Carpenters'  Company  for  it.*  The  Carpenters'  Com 
pany  of  Philadelphia  has  always  been  a  patriotic  body. 
In  the  months  which  preceded  the  Revolution  it  freely 
offered  its  hall  for  the  meetings  of  the  people ;  and  besides 
the  high  honor  of  having  entertained  the  Congress  of  1774, 

*  "  The  Carpenters'  Company  of  the  city  and  county  of  Philadel 
phia"  was  founded  in  the  year  1724,  and  has  continued  to  the  pres 
ent  moment  in  activity  and  vigor.  It  is  made  up  entirely  of  Master 
Carpenters,  who,  at  the  time  of  their  election,  have  been  actively 
engaged  in  business,  and  numbers  now  ninety  members. 

215 


216  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774- 

it  can  point  to  its  having  sheltered  the  Committees  of  Safety 
and  the  Provincial  Committee  for  a  long  time  beneath  this 
roof.  The  Carpenters'  Company  of  Philadelphia  is  a  very 
ancient  body.  It  came  into  existence  when  George  the 
First  was  king,  when  Benjamin  Franklin  was  a  printer's 
lad,  and  Samuel  Johnson  was  a  boy  at  school.  It  was 
founded  fifty  years  before  an  American  Congress  met,  and 
it  is  now  half  as  old  again  as  American  independence. 
And  more  than  this,  it  is  a  very  honorable  body.  Its 
members  have  been  counted  among  our  best  citizens  for 
industry  and  character.  Both  this  hall,  in  which  the  nation 
may  be  said  to  have  been  born,  and  that  other,  where  in 
1776  its  articles  of  apprenticeship  were  cancelled,  are  the 
monuments  of  its  earlier  skill,  and  there  are  few  houses  in 
this  City  of  Homes  in  which  its  members  have  not  had  a 
hand.  And,  after  all,  how  fitting  does  it  seem  that  the  hall 
of  the  Carpenters'  Company  should  have  been  the  scene  of 
that  event  which  we  have  assembled  to  commemorate !  The 
men  of  the  First  Congress  were  architects  themselves ;  the 
master-builders  of  a  Republic  founded  on  the  equality  of 
man — the  highest  types  of  which,  in  the  two  struggles 
through  which  it  has  had  to  pass,  have  been  Benjamin 
Franklin,  the  mechanic,  and  the  farmer's  lad  whose  name 
was  Abraham  Lincoln.  They  represented  among  them 
selves  every  rank  of  life — the  lawyer,  the  merchant,  the 
farmer,  the  mechanic — and  they  did  more  to  dignify  Labor 
and  advance  the  cause  of  Humanity  in  the  seven  weeks 
during  which  they  sat  in  this  place  than  all  the  parliaments 
of  the  world  have  done  in  twice  as  many  centuries.  If 
there  be  anything  good,  if  there  be  anything  noble,  if  there 
be  anything  precious  in  the  American  Revolution,  it  is  just 
this — that  it  secured  for  every  man  an  equal  chance.  Far 
wiser  than  those  who  have  attempted  a  similar  work  be- 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  217 

neath  other  skies,  the  men  who  achieved  that  Revolution 
attacked  no  vested  rights,  set  up  no  false  notions  of  equality, 
nor  the  oppression  of  the  many  for  the  tyranny  of  the  few, 
nor  did  they  break  the  chain  that  bound  them  to  an  hon 
orable  past.  They  sought  rather  to  make  Virtue  and  Intel 
ligence  the  test  of  manhood — to  strike  down  Prerogative 
and  Privilege,  and  open  the  gates  of  happiness  to  all  alike. 
And  as  I  contemplate  their  glorious  struggle  at  this  dis 
tance  of  time,  and  think  of  the  national  life  which  it  has 
blessed  us  with — a  century  of  which  is  surely  a  great 
achievement  for  any  people* — I  cannot  but  think  it  to 
have  been  a  happy  omen  that  it  was  inaugurated  here.  It 
is  impossible,  in  the  time  which  I  can  allow  myself,  to  at 
tempt  a  description  of  the  causes  of  the  Revolution.  The 


*  The  historian  Freeman,  writing  in  1862,  says  (History  of  Fed 
eral  Government,  vol.  i.  p.  112):  "At  all  events,  the  American 
Union  has  actually  secured,  for  what  is  really  a  long  period  of  time, 
a  greater  amount  of  combined  peace  and  freedom  than  was  ever 
before  enjoyed  by  so  large  a  portion  of  the  earth's  surface.  There 
have  been,  arid  still  are,  vaster  despotic  empires,  but  never  before 
has  so  large  an  inhabited  territory  remained  for  more  than  seventy 
years  in  the  enjoyment  at  once  of  internal  freedom  and  of  exemption 
from  the  scourge  of  internal  war." 

Professor  Hoppin,  of  Yale  College,*  writes  me  of  a  conversation  he 
had  some  years  ago  with  Professor  Karl  von  Raumer,  of  Berlin  :  "  I 
asked  him  what  was  his  opinion  as  to  the  perpetuity  of  republican 
institutions.  He  said :  '  Under  certain  conditions  fulfilled,  they 
would  be  more  permanent  than  any  other  form.  But,'  said  he, 
starting  up  from  his  chair  with  great  energy,  '  if  they  should  fail, 
fifty  years  of  American  freedom  would  be  worth  a  thousand  years 
of  Siberian  despotism  !'  " 

A  similar  thought  is  expressed  by  Freeman  in  page  52  of  the  vol 
ume  above  quoted:  "The  one  century  of  Athenian  greatness,  from 
the  expulsion  of  the  Thirty  Tyrants  to  the  defeat  of  Aigospotamos, 
is  worth  millenniums  of  the  life  of  Egypt  or  Assyria." 

15 


218  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774- 

duty  which  I  have  to  discharge  is  sufficiently  difficult.  I 
shall  tax  your  patience,  at  any  rate,  I  fear  (for  the  trial  is 
rather  how  little  than  how  much  to  say),  but  the  story 
must  needs  be  long,  and  the  occasion  seems  one  of  historic 
dignity. 

It  was  only  a  month  ago  that  the  inhabitants  of  a  little 
island  in  the  northern  corner  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  met  on 
their  Law  Mount  and  celebrated,  with  song  and  saga, 
their  one  thousandth  anniversary.  That  hardy  race,  which 
counts  among  its  achievements  the  first  discovery  of  this 
continent,  has  witnessed  many  memorable  and  strange 
events.  Locked  up  in  snow  and  ice,  protected  by  the 
warring  elements,  it  has  watched  the  growth  and  decay  of 
empires,  the  rise  and  fall  of  nations,  the  most  wonderful 
changes  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  But  it  has  seen  no 
spectacle  more  extraordinary  than  that  which  we  commem 
orate  to-day,  and  in  all  the  sterile  pages  of  its  thousand 
years  of  history  it  can  point  to  no  such  achievements  as  fill 
up  the  first  century  of  this  younger  nation. 

The  tendency  of  the  American  colonies  toward  union 
had  frequently  shown  itself  before  1774.  There  was,  of 
course,  little  sympathy  at  the  outset  between  the  Puritan 
of  New  England  and  the  Virginian  cavalier,  the  Roman 
Catholic  of  Maryland  and  the  Pennsylvania  Quaker. 
Each  had,  in  times  past,  suffered  at  the  other's  hands, 
and  the  smart  of  their  injuries  was  not  soon  forgotten. 
But  Time,  that  great  healer,  came  after  a  while  to  eiface 
its  sharpness,  and  when  the  third  generation  had  grown  up, 
little  bitterness  remained.  For,  after  all,  there  is  no  sym 
pathy  like  that  which  is  begotten  by  common  suffering. 
The  trials  of  these  men  had  been  much  the  same.  The 
spirit  of  persecution  had  driven  forth  all  alike.  Their 
ideas  of  liberty — narrow  as  they  were  at  first — did  not  mate- 


THE  CONGRESS   OF  1774,  219 

rially  differ,  and  their  devotion  to  them  had  led  all  alike 
across  the  seas.  They  spoke  the  same  language,  inherited 
the  same  traditions,  revered  the  same  examples,  worshipped 
the  same  God.  Nor  had  the  obstacles  which  they  had 
overcome  been  different.  Heat  and  cold,  fire  and  sword, 
hunger  and  thirst — they  had  all  experienced  these.  The 
Frenchman  on  the  North  and  the  Indian  along  the  Western 
frontier  had  constantly  threatened  them  with  a  common 
danger,  and  when  the  news  of  Braddock's  defeat  came 
down  the  slopes  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains  it  sent  a 
thrill  through  hearts  in  Georgia  and  New  Hampshire,  as 
well  as  in  Pennsylvania  and  Maryland.  As  early  as  the 
year  1754  the  Indian  troubles  and  the  necessity  for  united 
action  had  led  to  the  assembling  of  a  convention  or  council 
at  Albany,  at  which  seven  colonies  were  represented.  The 
scheme  for  a  perpetual  union  which  the  genius  of  Franklin 
had  then  devised  was  not  successful,  it  is  true,  but  the  meet 
ing  under  such  circumstances  awakened  a  strong  desire  for 
union  among  his  countrymen;  and  when,  in  1765,  the  times 
had  changed,  and  the  mother -country,  victorious  over 
France,  turned  her  hand  against  her  children,  the  sense  of 
danger  found  expression  in  the  convention  which  the  Stamp 
Act  brought  together  in  New  York.  I  pass  without  com 
ment  over  the  years  which  intervened  between  1765  and 
1774.  The  Stamp  Act  had  been  repealed,  but  a  succession 
of  severer  measures  had  brought  things  from  bad  to  worse. 
Great  Britain  was  in  the  zenith  of  her  power.  The  colonies 
were  thirteen  in  number,  and  contained  about  two  millions 
and  a  half  of  inhabitants.*  Let  us,  then,  in  the  course  of 
the  hour  which  we  are  to  spend  together  here,  endeavor  to 
go  back  in  imagination  to  the  summer  of  1774. 

*  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  vii.  p.  128. 


220  THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774- 

Here  in  Philadelphia  there  have  been  feverish  days. 
The  news  of  the  determination  of  the  ministry  to  shut  up 
the  port  of  Boston,  followed,  as  it  is  soon  after,  by  the 
attempt  to  do  away  with  the  ancient  charter  of  Massachu 
setts,  and  to  remove  to  Great  Britain  the  trial  of  offences 
committed  in  America,  has  aroused  the  patriotic  resistance 
of  the  whole  country.  In  every  town  and  hamlet,  from 
New  Hampshire  to  the  southern  boundary  of  Georgia,  bold 
protests  are  recorded  by  the  people,  and  Boston  is  declared 
to  be  suffering  in  the  common  cause.  The  first  day  of 
June,  when  the  Port  Bill  goes  into  effect,  is  everywhere 
kept  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  humiliation.  Flags  are  low 
ered  to  half-mast,  shops  shut  up,  and  the  places  of  worship 
crowded  with  thoughtful  men.  Nine-tenths  of  the  houses 
in  Philadelphia  are  closed  in  mourning,  and  the  famous 
bells  of  Christ  Church  are  muffled  in  distress.  Nor  are 
the  fellow-countrymen  of  the  Bostonians  content  with  this 
manifestation  of  their  sympathy.  From  every  part  of  the 
colonies  come  contributions  for  the  suffering  poor.  Money, 
provisions,  and  articles  of  clothing  pour  in  from  every  side. 
There  is  but  one  sentiment  in  the  great  majority  of  the 
people — a  determination  to  support  the  men  of  Massachu 
setts  to  the  end.  They  were  not  unconscious  of  the  dangers 
of  such  a  course.  The  disparity  between  the  power  of  Great 
Britain  and  their  own  was  far  more  apparent  to  them  than 
it  can  ever  be  to  us.  They  saw  her  the  first  power  of  the 
age — fresh  from  the  memorable  wars  in  which  she  had 

O 

destroyed  the  naval  and  colonial  power  of  France.  The 
air  still  rang  with  the  cheers  with  which  they  had  greeted 
her  successive  triumphs,  each  of  which  they  had  come  to 
look  upon  as  their  own.  Her  armies  had  been  victorious 
in  every  land,  her  fleets  triumphant  on  the  most  distant 
seas,  and  whatever  of  spirit,  of  courage,  and  of  endurance 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774-  221 

they  might  believe  themselves  to  possess,  they  had  inherited 
from  her.  "  We  have  not  fit  men  for  the  times,"  wrote 
one  of  the  leading  actors  in  the  drama  that  was  about  to 
begin ;  "  we  are  deficient  in  genius,  in  education,  in  travel, 
in  fortune,  in  everything.  I  feel  unutterable  anxiety."* 
But  there  is  no  thought  of  yielding  in  anybody's  breast. 
"  God  grant  us  wisdom  and  fortitude,"  writes  John  Adams, 
in  June,  and  he  speaks  the  universal  sentiment  of  his  coun 
trymen.  "  Should  the  opposition  be  suppressed,  should  this 
country  submit,  what  infamy  and  ruin !  God  forbid  !  Death 
In  any  form  is  less  terrible."f  It  was  out  of  this  conscious 
ness  of  weakness  that  the  strength  of  the  Revolution  grew. 
Had  Massachusetts  stood  alone,  had  a  feeling  of  strength 
seduced  the  colonies  to  remain  divided,  the  end  would  have 
been  far  different.  Singly,  they  would  have  offered  but 
a  slight  resistance — together,  they  were  invincible.  And 
the  blind  policy  of  the  English  king  and  ministry  steadily 
fostered  this  sentiment  of  union.  The  closing  of  the  port 
of  Boston  was  intended  by  its  authors  to  punish  Massachu 
setts  alone,  but  the  merchant  of  Charleston  or  New  York 
saw  in  the  act  the  attempt  to  exercise  a  power  which  might 
one  day  be  directed  against  him,  and  the  Pennsylvania!! 
could  have  little  feeling  of  security  in  submitting  his 
valued  institutions  to  the  mercy  of  those  who  sought,  by 
an  act  of  Parliament,  to  sweep  away  the  ancient  charter  of 
Massachusetts.  The  cause  of  one  colony  became  the  cause 
of  all.  The  rights  of  Massachusetts  were  the  rights  of 
America. 

All  through  the  spring  and  summer  there  has  been  earn 
est  consultation.  Couriers  are  riding  here  and  there  with 
messages  from  the  Committees  of  Correspondence  which, 

*  Works  of  John  Adams,  vol.  ii.  p.  338.  f  Ibid. 


222  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

thanks  to  Samuel  Adams,  have  been  established  in  every 
village.  A  constant  interchange  of  counsels  has  soon  be 
gotten  confidence;  with  better  understanding  has  come  a 
sense  of  strength.  Each  colony  seems  ready  for  her  share 
•of  the  responsibility,  and  no  town,  however  feeble,  feels 
alone.  Boston  is  strengthened  in  her  glorious  martyrdom 
as  her  sister  towns  reach  forth  to  clasp  her  shackled  hands, 
and  the  cry  goes  forth,  at  last,  for  the  assembling  of  a 
Continental  Congress.  "Permit  me  to  suggest  a  general 
Congress  of  deputies  from  the  several  Houses  of  Assembly 
on  the  Continent,"*  John  Hancock  says  on  the  4th  of 
March,  "as  the  most  effectual  method  of  establishing  a 
union  for  the  security  of  our  rights  and  liberties/7  "A 
Congress,  and  then  an  assembly  of  States/'f  cries  Samuel 
Adams,  in  April,  1773.  Here  is  a  call  for  a  general 
Congress  in  the  newspaper  which  I  hold  in  my  hand — a 
journal  published  in  Philadelphia  on  the  llth  of  October, 
1773.  "  A  Congress,"  suggest  the  Sons  of  Liberty  of  New 
York  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  and  in  all  parts 
of  the  country  the  cry  meets  with  a  response.  The  first 
official  call  comes  from  Virginia,  dated  May  28,  1774. 
On  the  20th  of  that  month  the  Whigs  of  Philadelphia 
have  met,  to  the  number  of  three  hundred,  in  the  long 
room  of  the  City  Tavern  on  Second  Street,  and,  after  con 
sultation,  unanimously  resolved  that  the  governor  be  asked 
at  once  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  Assembly  of  this  province, 
and  a  Committee  of  Correspondence  be  appointed  to  write 
to  the  men  of  Boston  "  that  we  consider  them  as  suffering 
in  the  general  cause ;"  "  that  we  truly  feel  for  their  unhappy 
situation ;"  u  that  we  recommend  to  them  firmness,  pru- 

*  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  vi.  p.  508. 
f  Ibid.,  p.  456. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774-  223 

dence,  and  moderation ;"  and  that  "  we  shall  continue  to 
evince  our  firm  adherence  to  the  cause  of  American  lib 
erty."* 

The  messenger  who  bears  this  letter  finds  the  country 
all  alive.  The  Boston  Committee  sends  southward  a  calm 
statement  of  the  situation,  and  asks  for  general  counsel  and 
support.  Rumor  follows  rumor  as  the  days  go  by,  and 
presently  a  courier  comes  riding  down  the  dusty  King's 
Highway  from  the  North,  and  never  draws  rein  till  he 
reaches  the  Merchants'  Coffee-House,  where  the  patriots 
are  assembled  in  committee.  The  intelligence  he  brings  is 
stirring,  for  men  come  forth  with  flushed  cheeks  and  spark 
ling  eyes.  And  soon  it  is  on  every  lip.  Behold,  great 
news !  Bold  Sam  Adams  has  locked  the  Assembly  door 
on  the  king's  officers  at  Salem,  and  the  General  Court  has 
named  Philadelphia  and  the  1st  of  September  as  the  place 
and  time  for  the  assembling  of  a  Congress  of  deputies 
from  all  the  colonies.  Twelve  hundred  miles  of  coast  is 
soon  aflame.  Nor  is  the  enthusiasm  confined  to  youth 
alone.  Hopkins  and  Hawley  in  New  England,  and  Gads- 
den  in  Carolina,  are  as  full  of  fire  as  their  younger  breth 
ren,  and  far  away,  in  a  corner  of  the  British  capital,  a 
stout  old  gentleman  in  a  suit  of  gray  cloth,  with  spectacles 
on  his  nose,  and  a  bright  twinkle  in  his  eye,  is  steadily 
preparing  for  the  struggle  which  he — wise,  far-sighted, 


*  Pennsylvania  Packet  for  June  6,  1774.  The  reply  to  the  Bos- 
tonians  was  written* by  the  Rev.  Dr.  William  Smith,  first  provost  of 
the  University  of  Pennsylvania  (who  did  service  afterward  as  one  of 
the  Provincial  Convention  of  1774).  An  interesting  account  of  this 
will-  be  found  on  pages  41  and  42  of  the  valuable  "  Memoir  of  the 
Rev.  William  Smith,  D.D.  ;"  for  a  copy  of  which  I  am  indebted  to 
its  author,  Charles  J.  Stille,  Esq.,  LL.D.,  the  present  provost  of  the 
University. 


224  THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

great-souled  Franklin — has  long  foreseen  and  hoped  for. 
One  by  one  the  colonies  choose  delegates.  Connecticut 
first,  Massachusetts  next,  Maryland  the  third,  New  Hamp 
shire  on  the  21st  of  July,  Pennsylvania  on  the  22d,  and 
so  on  until  all  but  Georgia  have  elected  representatives. 
Yet  still  king  and  Parliament  are  deaf  and  blind,  royal 
governors  are  writing :  "  Massachusetts  stands  alone ;  there 
will  be  no  Congress  of  the  other  colonies."  Boston  lies 
still,  the  shipping  motionless  in  her  harbor,  the  merchandise 
rotting  on  her  wharves ;  and  elsewhere,  as  of  old,  the  dull 
routine  of  provincial  life  goes  jogging  on.  The  creaking 
stages  lumber  to  and  fro.  Ships  sail  slowly  up  to  town, 
or  swing  out  into  the  stream  waiting  for  a  wind  to  take 
them  out  to  sea.  Men  rise  and  go  to  work,  eat,  lie  down 
and  sleep.  The  sun  looks  down  on  hot,  deserted  streets, 
and  so  the  long  days  of  summer  pass  until  September 
comes. 

With  the  first  days  of  the  new  month  there  is  excite 
ment  among  the  Philadelphia  Whigs.  All  through  the 
week  the  delegates  to  Congress  have  been  arriving.  Yes 
terday,  Christopher  Gadsden  and  Thomas  Lynch,  Esquires, 
landed  at  the  wharf,  having  come  by  sea  from  Charleston, 
South  Carolina ;  to-day,  Colonel  Nathaniel  Folsom  and 
Major  John  Sullivan,  the  delegates  from  New  Hampshire, 
ride  into  town.*  The  friends  of  liberty  are  busy.  The 
great  coach-and-fourf  of  John  Dickinson  rolls  rapidly 
through  the  streets  as  he  hastens  to  greet  the  Virginian 
gentlemen  who  have  just  arrived,  and"  in  the  northern 
suburbs  a  company  of  horsemen  has  galloped  out  the  old 

*  Pennsylvania  Packet  for  August  29,  1774. 

f  "  Mr.  Dickinson,  the  farmer  of  Pennsylvania,  came  in  his 
coach,  with  four  beautiful  horses,  to  Mr.  Ward's  lodgings  to  see 
us." — /.  A  dams'  s  Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  360. 


THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774-  225 

King's  Road  to  welcome  the  delegates  from  Massachusetts, 
who  have  arrived  at  Frankford,  with  Sam  Adams  at  their 
head.*  With  Saturday  night  they  are  all  here,  save  those 
from  North  Carolina,  who  were  not  chosen  till  the  25th, 
but  are  on  their  way. 

Sunday  comes — the  last  Sabbath  of  the  old  provincial 
days.  The  bells  of  Christ  Church  chime  sweetly  in  the 
morning  air,  and  her  aisles  are  crowded  beyond  their  wont ; 
but  the  solemn  service  glides  along,  as  in  other  days,  with 
its  prayer  for  king  and  queen,  so  soon  to  be  read  for  the 
last  time  within  those  walls  ;  and  the  thought,  perhaps, 
never  breaks  the  stillness  of  the  Quakers'  meeting-house 
that  a  thing  has  come  to  pass  that  will  make  their  quiet 
town  immortal.  Then  the  long  afternoon  fades  away,  and 
the  sun  sinks  down  yonder  over  Valley  Forge. 

The  fifth  day  of  September  dawns  at  last.  At  ten  in  the 
morning  the  delegates  assemble  at  the  Merchants'  Coffee- 
House.f  From  that  point  they  march  on  foot  along  the 

*  J.  Adams's  Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  357:  "  After  dinner  we  stopped 
at  Frankford,  about  five  miles  out  of  town.  A  number  of  carriages 
and  gentlemen  came  out  of  Philadelphia  to  meet  us.  .  .  .  We  were 
introduced  to  all  these  gentlemen,  and  cordially  welcomed  to  Phila 
delphia.  We  then  rode  into  the  town,  and,  dirty,  dusty,  and  fa 
tigued  as  we  were,  we  could  not  resist  the  importunity  to  go  to  the 
tavern,  the  most  genteel  one  in  America."  The  important  conse 
quences  of  this  meeting  at  Frankford  are  set  forth  in  a  letter  of 
Adams  to  T.  Pickering  in  1822,  printed  in  a  note  on  page  512  of  the 
same  volume. —  FicZe,  also,  vol.  i.  p.  151. 

f  Then  called  the  City  Tavern.  It  stood  on  the  west  side  of 
Second  Street,  above  Walnut,  at  the  corner  of  Gold  Street  (or  Bank 
Alley),  and  had  been  recently  opened  by  Daniel  Smith.  It  was 
already  the  rendezvous  of  the  Whigs,  as  the  London  Coffee-House 
(still  standing),  at  Front  and  Market,  had  long  been  of  the  Tory 
party. —  Vide  Westcott's  History  of  Philadelphia,  Philadelphia  Li 
brary  copy,  vol.  ii.  p.  364. 


226  THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

street  until  they  reach  the  threshold  of  this  hall.  And 
what  a  memorable  procession !  The  young  men  cluster 
around  them  as  they  pass,  for  these  are  their  chosen  leaders 
in  the  struggle  that  has  come.  The  women  peep  at  them, 
worideringly,  from  the  bowed  windows  of  their  low-roofed 
houses,  little  dreaming,  perhaps,  that  these  are  the  fathers 
of  a  republic  for  the  sake  of  which  their  hearts  are  soon  to 
be  wrung  and  their  homes  made  desolate.  Here  a  royalist 
— "  Tory"  he  is  soon  to  be  called — turns  out  for  them  to 
pass,  scarcely  attempting  to  hide  the  sneer  that  trembles  on 
his  lips,  or  some  stern-browed  Friend,  a  man  of  peace,  his 
broad-brimmed  hat  set  firmly  on  his  head,  goes  by,  with 
measured  footsteps,  on  the  other  side.  Yonder  urchin, 
playing  by  the  roadside,  turns  his  head  suddenly  to  stare  at 
this  stately  company.  Does  he  dream  of  the  wonders  he 
shall  live  to  see?  Men  whose  names  his  children  shall 
revere  through  all  descending  generations  have  brushed  by 
him  while  he  played,  and  yet  he  knows  them  not.  And  so 
along  the  street,  and  down  the  narrow  court,  and  up  the 
broad  steps  the  Congress  takes  its  way. 

The  place  of  meeting  has  been  well  chosen.  Some  of 
the  Pennsylvanians  would  have  preferred  the  State-House, 
but  that  is  the  seat  of  government,  and  the  Assembly, 
which  has  adjourned,  has  made  no  provision  for  the  meet 
ing  of  Congress  there.  Here,  too,  have  been  held  the 
town-meetings  at  which  the  people  have  protested  against 
the  acts  of  Parliament,  and  the  Carpenters7  Company, 
which  owns  the  hall,  is  made  up  of  the  friends  of  liberty. 
It  has  oifered  its  hall  to  the  delegates,  and  the  place  seems 
fit.  It  is  "  a  spacious  hall,"  says  one  of  them,*  and  above 

*  John  Adams:  from  whose  Journal  or  Correspondence  I  have 
taken  the  personal  descriptions  in  nearly  every  instance. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774,  227 

there  is  "a  chamber,  with  an  excellent  library/'  "a  con 
venient  chamber  opposite  to  this,  and  a  long  entry  where 
gentlemen  may  walk."  The  question  is  put  whether  the 
gentlemen  are  satisfied,  and  passed  in  the  affirmative ;  the 
members  are  soon  seated  and  the  doors  are  shut.  The 
silence  is  first  broken  by  Mr.  Lynch,  of  South  Carolina. 
"  There  is  a  gentleman  present,"  he  says,  "  who  has  presided 
with  great  dignity  over  a  very  respectable  society,  and  greatly 
to  the  advantage  of  America ;"  and  he  "  moves  that  the 
Honorable  Peyton  Randolph,  Esquire,  one  of  the  delegates 
from  Virginia,  be  appointed  chairman."  He  doubts  not  it 
will  be  unanimous.  It  is  so,  and  yonder  "  large,  well- 
looking  man,"  carefully  dressed,  with  well-powdered  wig 
and  scarlet  coat,  rises  and  takes  the  chair.*  The  commis 
sions  of  the  delegates  are  then  produced  and  read,  after 
which  Mr.  Lynch  nominates  as  secretary  Mr.  Charles 
Thomson,  "  a  gentleman,"  he  says,  "  of  family,  fortune, 
and  character."  And  thereupon,  with  that  singular  wisdom 
which  our  early  statesmen  showed  in  their  selection  of  men 
for  all  posts  of  responsibility,  the  Congress  calls  into  his 
country's  service  that  admirable  man,  "  the  Sam  Adams  of 
Philadelphia  and  the  life  of  the  cause  of  liberty ."f  While 


*  During  the  delivery  of  this  address  an  original  portrait  of  Mr. 
Kandolph  hung  above  the  chair  in  which  he  sat  during  the  sessions 
of  Congress. 

f  The  Hon.  Eli  K.  Price  has  kindly  sent  me  the  following  interest 
ing  account  of  the  manner  in  which  this  was  made  known  to  Mr. 
Thomson.  The  allusion  in  the  address  "  reminded  me,"  writes  a 
lady  of  Mr.  Price's  family,  Miss  Rebecca  Embree,  "  of  the  great 
simplicity  of  that  appointment,  as  I  have  heard  it  related  by  Deborah 
Logan,  wife  of  Dr.  George  Logan,  of  Stenton,  viz. :  '  Charles  Thom 
son  had  accompanied  his  wife  on  a  bridal  visit  to  Deborah  Logan's 
mother,  Mary  Parker  Norris,  who  resided  on  Chestnut  Street  above 
Fourth,  where  the  custom-house  now  stands.  Whilst  there  a  mes- 


228  TH^   CONGRESS   OF  1774. 

preliminaries  are  being  despatched,  let  us  take  a  look  at 
this  company,  for  it  is  the  most  extraordinary  assemblage 
America  has  ever  seen.  There  are  fifty  delegates  present, 
the  representatives  of  eleven  colonies.  Georgia  has  had  no 
election,  the  North  Carolinians  have  not  yet  arrived,  and 
John  Dickinson,  that  "  shadow,  slender  as  a  reed,  and  pale 
as  ashes,"  that  Pennsylvania  farmer  who  has  sown  the  seeds 
of  empire,  is  not  a  member  yet.*  Directly  in  front,  in  a 
seat  of  prominence,  sits  Richard  Henry  Lee.  His  brilliant 
eye  and  Roman  profile  would  make  him  a  marked  man  in 
any  company.  One  hand  has  been  injured,  and  is  wrapped, 
as  you  see,  in  a  covering  of  black  silk,  but  when  he  speaks 
his  movements  are  so  graceful  and  his  voice  so  sweet  that 
you  forget  the  defect  of  gesture,  for  he  is  an  orator — the 
greatest  in  America,  perhaps,  save  only  one.  That  tall 

senger  arrived  inquiring  for  Mr.  Thomson,  and  informed  him  that 
he  was  wanted  at  Carpenters'  Hall.  Being  introduced  to  the  com 
pany  there  assembled,  he  was  requested  to  act  as  their  secretary, 
which  he  accordingly  did.'  " 

*  Justice  is  not  done  nowadays  to  the  patriotic  labors  of  John 
Dickinson.  The  effect  of  his  "  Farmer's  Letters"  in  preparing  the 
minds  of  his  countrymen  for  resistance  to  Great  Britain,  can  hardly 
be  exaggerated,  and  to  him  they  owed  the  phrase,  u  No  taxation 
without  representation."  When  the  Congress  of  1774  assembled, 
no  man  in  the  colonies  was  more  prominent  than  the  Farmer,  and 
his  influence  upon  its  deliberations  was  very  great.  On  page  13  of 
the  valuable  "  Early  History  of  the  Falls  of  Schuylkill,  etc..  etc.,"  by 
Charles  V.  Hagner,  Esq.,  will  be  found  an  interesting  account,  taken 
partly  from  the  Pennsylvania  Gazette  of  May  12,  1768,  of  the  pre 
sentation  of  a  laudatory  address  to  Mr.  Dickinson  by  the  Society  of 
Fort  St.  Davids.  Other  similar  addresses  were  sent  to  him  from 
various  parts  of  the  colonies — one  especially  worthy  of  note  being 
signed  by  Dr.  Benjamin  Church,  John  Hancock,  Samuel  Adams, 
Dr.  Joseph  Warren,  and  John  Rowe,  and  enclosing  resolutions 
adopted  at  a  town-meeting  held  in  Boston. 


THE   CONGRESS   OF  1774.  229 

man  with  the  swarthy  face,  and  black  unpowdered  hair,  is 
William  Livingston  of  New  Jersey — "  no  public  speaker, 
but  sensible  and  learned."  Beside  him,  with  his  slender 
form  bent  forward,  and  his  face  lit  with  enthusiasm,  sits 
his  son-in-law,  John  Jay,  soon  to  be  famous.  He  is  the 
youngest  of  the  delegates,  and  yonder  sits  the  oldest  of 
them  all.  His  form  is  bent,  his  thin  locks  fringing  a  fore 
head  bowed  with  age  and  honorable  service,  and  his  hands 
shake  tremulously  as  he  folds  them  in  his  lap.  It  is 
Stephen  Hopkins,  once  Chief  Justice  of  Rhode  Island. 
Close  by  him  is  his  colleague,  Samuel  Ward,  and  Sherman 
of  Connecticut — that  strong  man  whose  name  is  to  be 
made  honorable  by  more  than  one  generation.  Johnson 
of  Maryland  is  here,  "that  clear,  cool  head,"  and  Paca, 
his  colleague,  "a  wise  deliberator."  Bland  of  Virginia, 
is  that  learned-looking,  "bookish  man,"  beside  "zealous, 
hot-headed"  Edward  Rutledge.  The  Pennsylvanians  are 
grouped  together  at  one  side  —  Morton,  Humphreys, 
Mifflin,  Rhoads,  Biddle,  Ross,  and  Galloway,  the  Speaker 
of  the  Assembly.  Bending  forward  to  whisper  in  the 
latter's  ear  is  Duane  of  New  York — that  sly-looking 
man,  a  little  "  squint-eyed"  (John  Adams  has  already 
written  of  him),  "very  sensible  and  very  artful."  That 
large-featured  man,  with  the  broad,  open  countenance,  is 
William  Hooper;  that  other,  with  the  Roman  nose, 
McKean  of  Delaware.  Rodney,  the  latter's  colleague,  sits 
beside  him,  "  the  oddest-looking  man  in  the  world — tall, 
thin,  pale,  his  face  no  bigger  than  a  large  apple,  yet  beam 
ing  with  sense,  and  wit,  and  humor."  Yonder  is  Chris 
topher  Gadsden,  who  has  been  preaching  independence  to 
South  Carolina  these  ten  years  past.  He  it  is  who,  roused 
by  the  report  that  the  regulars  have  commenced  to  bombard 
Boston,  proposes  to  march  northward  and  defeat  Gage  at 


230  THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

once,  before  his  reinforcements  can  arrive ;  and  when  some 
one  timidly  says  that  in  the  event  of  war  the  British  will 
destroy  the  seaport  towns,  turns  on  the  speaker,  with  this 
grand  reply :  "  Our  towns  are  built  of  brick  and  wood ; 
if  they  are  burned  down  we  can  rebuild  them ;  but  liberty 
once  lost  is  gone  forever."  In  all  this  famous  company 
perhaps  the  men  most  noticed  are  the  Massachusetts 
members.  That  colony  has  thus  far  taken  the  lead  in  the 
struggle  with  the  mother-country.  A  British  army  is 
encamped  upon  her  soil ;  the  gates  of  her  chief  town  are 
shut ;  against  her  people  the  full  force  of  the  resentment 
of  king  and  Parliament  is  spent.  Her  sufferings  called 
this  Congress  into  being,  and  now  lend  sad  prominence  to 
her  ambassadors.  And  of  them  surely  Samuel  Adams  is 
the  chief.  What  must  be  his  emotions  as  he  sits  here  to 
day — he  who  "eats  little,  drinks  little,  and  thinks  much"* 
— that  strong  man  whose  undaunted  spirit  has  led  his 
countrymen  up  to  the  possibilities  of  this  day?  It  is  his 
plan  of  correspondence,  adopted,  after  a  hard  struggle,  in 
November,  1772,  that  first  made  feasible  a  union  in  the 
common  defence.  He  called  for  union  as  early  as  April, 
1773.  For  that  he  had  labored  without  ceasing  and  with 
out  end,  now  arousing  the  drooping  spirits  of  less  sanguine 
men,  now  repressing  the  enthusiasm  of  rash  hearts,  which 
threatened  to  bring  on  a  crisis  before  the  time  was  ripe, 
and  all  the  while  thundering  against  tyranny  through  the 
columns  of  the  Boston  Gazette.  As  he  was  ten  years  ago 
he  is  to-day,  the  master-spirit  of  the  time — as  cool,  as 
watchful,  as  steadfast,  now  that  the  hour  of  his  triumph  is 
at  hand,  as  when,  in  darker  days,  he  took  up  the  burden 

*  Historical  and  Political  Reflections  on  the  Rise  and  Progress  of 
the  American  Rebellion,  by  Joseph  Galloway,  London,  1780. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  231 

James  Otis  could  no  longer  bear.  Beside  him  sits  his 
younger  kinsman,  John  Adams,  a  man  after  his  own  heart 
— bold,  fertile,  resolute,  an  eloquent  speaker,  and  a  leader 
of  men.  But  whose  is  yonder  tall  and  manly  form  ?  It 
is  that  of  a  man  of  forty  years  of  age,  in  the  prime  of 
vigorous  manhood.  He  has  not  spoken,  for  he  is  no 
orator,  but  there  is  a  look  of  command  in  his  broad  face 
and  firm-set  mouth,  that  marks  him  among  men,  and  seems 
to  justify  the  deference  with  which  his  colleagues  turn  to 
speak  with  him.  He  has  taken  a  back  seat,  as  becomes 
one  of  his  great  modesty — for  he  is  great  even  in  that — 
but  he  is  still  the  foremost  man  in  all  this  company.  This 
is  he  who  has  just  made  in  the  Virginia  Convention  that 
speech  which  Lynch  of  Carolina  says  is  the  most  eloquent 
that  ever  was  made  :  "  I  will  raise  a  thousand  men,  subsist 
them  at  my  own  expense,  and  march  with  them,  at  their 
head,  for  the  relief  of  Boston."  These  Avere  his  words — 
and  his  name  is  Washington.  Such  was  the  Continental 
Congress  assembled  in  Philadelphia. 

Its  members  were  met  by  a  serious  difficulty  at  the  very 
outset.  The  question  at  once  arose,  How  should  their  votes 
be  cast — by  colonies,  by  interest,  or  by  the  poll  ?  Some 
were  for  a  vote  by  colonies ;  but  the  larger  ones  at  once 
raised  the  important  objection  that  it  would  be  unjust  to 
allow  to  a  little  colony  the  same  weight  as  a  large  one. 
"  A  small  colony,"  was  the  reply  of  Major  Sullivan,  of 
New  Hampshire,  "  has  its  all  at  stake,  as  well  as  a  large 
one."  Virginia  responded  that  the  delegates  from  the  Old 
Dominion,  will  never  consent  to  waive  her  full  representa 
tion  ;  and  one  of  them  went  so  far  as  to  intimate  that  if 
she  were  denied  an  influence  in  proportion  to  her  size  and 
numbers,  she  would  never  again  be  represented  in  such  an 
assembly.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  confessed  to  be  im- 


232  THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774- 

possible  to  determine  the  relative  weight  which  should  be 
assigned  to  each  colony.  There  were  no  tables  of  popula 
tion,  of  products,  or  of  trade,  nor  had  there  been  a  common 
system  in  the  choice  of  delegates.  Each  province  had  sent 
as  many  as  it  liked — Massachusetts  four,  South  Carolina 
five,  Virginia  seven,  Pennsylvania  eight.  In  one  case  they 
had  been  chosen  by  a  convention  of  the  people,  in  another 
by  a  general  election,  in  most  by  the  Assembly  of  the 
province.  There  was  no  rule  by  which  the  members  could 
be  guided.  Nor  was  this  the  only  point  of  difference 
among  the  delegates.  On  no  one  thing  did  they  seem  at 
first  sight  to  agree.  Some  were  for  resting  their  rights  on 
an  historical  basis — others  upon  the  law  of  nature.  These 
acknowledged  the  power  of  Great  Britain  to  regulate  trade 
— those  denied  her  right  to  legislate  for  America  at  all. 
One  would  have  omitted  the  Quebec  Bill  from  the  list  of 
grievances — another  held  it  to  be  of  them  all  the  very 
worst.  Some  were  for  paying  an  indemnity  for  the  de 
struction  of  the  tea — others  cried  out  that  this  were  to 
yield  the  point  at  once.  One  was  defiant,  a  second  con 
ciliatory  ;  Gadsden  desired  independence ;  Washington 
believed  that  it  was  wished  for  by  no  thinking  man. 

It  was  with  .a  full  sense  of  the  diversity  of  these  views, 
of  the  importance  of  a  speedy  decision,  and  of  the  danger 
of  dissension,  that  the  Congress  reassembled  the  next 
morning. 

When  the  doors  had  been  closed,  and  the  preliminaries 
gone  through  with,  it  is  related  that  an  oppressive  silence 
prevailed  for  a  long  time  before  any  man  spoke.  No  one 
seemed  willing  to  take  the  lead.  It  was  a  season  of  great 
doubt  and  greater  danger.  Now,  for  the  first  time  perhaps, 
when  the  excitement  of  the  assembling  had  passed  away, 
and  reflection  had  come  to  calm  men's  minds,  the  members 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  233 

realized  completely  the  importance  of  their  acts.  Their 
countrymen  watched  and  waited  everywhere.  In  the  most 
distant  hamlet  beyond  the  mountains,  in  the  lonely  cabin 
by  the  sea,  eyes  were  turned  to  this  place  with  anxious 
longing,  and  yonder,  in  the  North,  the  brave  town  lay 
patient  in  her  chains,  resting  her  hopes  for  deliverance 
upon  them.  And  not  Boston  only,  nor  Massachusetts,  de 
pended  upon  them.  The  fate  of  humanity  for  generations 
was  to  be  affected  by  their  acts.  Perhaps  in  the  stillness 
of  this  morning  hour  there  came  to  some  of  them  a  vision 
of  the  time  to  come.  Perhaps  to  him,  on  whose  great 
heart  was  destined  so  long  to  lie  the  weight  of  all  America, 
it  was  permitted  to  look  beyond  the  present  hour,  like  that 
great  leader  of  an  earlier  race  when  he  stood  silent,  upon 
a  peak  in  Moab,  and  overlooked  the  Promised  Land. 
Like  him,  he  was  to  be  the  chosen  of  his  people.  Like 
him,  soldier,  lawgiver,  statesman.  Like  him,  he  was  des 
tined  to  lead  his  brethren  through  the  wilderness;  and, 
happier  than  he,  was  to  behold  the  fulfilment  of  his  labor. 
Perhaps,  as  he  sat  here  in  the  solemn  stillness  that  fell 
upon  this  company,  he  may  have  seen,  in  imagination,  the 
wonders  of  the  century  that  is  complete  to-day.  If  he  had 
spoken,  might  he  not  have  said :  I  see  a  winter  of  trouble 
and  distress,  and  then  the  smoke  of  cannon  in  the  North. 
I  see  long  years  of  suffering  to  be  borne,  our  cities  sacked, 
our  fields  laid  waste,  our  hearths  made  desolate;  men 
trudging  heavily  through  blood-stained  snow,  and  wailing 
women  refusing  to  be  comforted.  I  see  a  time  of  danger 
and  defeat,  and  then  a  day  of  victory.  I  see  this  people, 
virtuous  and  free,  founding  a  government  on  the  rights  of 
man.  I  see  that  government  grown  strong,  that  people 
prosperous,  pushing  its  way  across  a  continent.  I  see  these 
villages  become  wealthy  cities ;  these  colonies  great  States ; 

16 


234  THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

the  Union  we  are  about  to  found,  a  power  among  the 
nations;  and  I  know  that  future  generations  shall  rise  up 
and  call  us  blessed. 

Such  might  have  been  his  thoughts  as  these  founders  of 
an  empire  sat  for  a  while  silent,  face  to  face.  It  was  the 
stillness  of  the  last  hour  of  night  before  the  morning 
breaks ;  it  was  the  quiet  which  precedes  the  storm. 

Suddenly,  in  some  part  of  this  hall  a  man  rose  up.  His 
form  was  tall  and  angular,  and  his  short  wig  and  coat  of 
black  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  clergyman.  His  com 
plexion  was  swarthy,  his  nose  long  and  straight,  his  mouth 
large,  but  with  a  firm  expression  on  the  thin  lips,  and  his 
forehead  exceptionally  high.  The  most  remarkable  feature 
of  his  face  was  a  pair  of  deep-set  eyes,  of  piercing  brilliancy, 
changing  so  constantly  with  the  emotions  which  they  ex 
pressed  that  none  could  tell  the  color  of  them.  He  began 
to  speak  in  a  hesitating  manner,  faltering  through  the 
opening  sentences,  as  if  fully  convinced  of  the  inability, 
which  he  expressed,  to  do  justice  to  his  theme.  But  pres 
ently,  as  he  reviewed  the  wrongs  of  the  colonies  through 
the  past  ten  years,  his  cheek  glowed  and  his  eye  flashed  fire 
and  his  voice  rang  out  rich  and  full,  like  a  trumpet,  through 
this  hall.  He  seemed  not  to  speak  like  mortal  man,  thought 
one  who  heard  him  ten  years  before  in  the  Virginia  House 
of  Burgesses ;  and  a  recent  essayist  in  a  leading  English 
Review  has  spoken  of  him  as  one  of  the  greatest  orators 
that  ever  lived.*  There  was  no  report  made  of  his  speech 
that  day,  but  from  the  notes  which  John  Adams  kept  of 
the  debate,  we  may  learn  what  line  of  argument  he  took. 
He  spoke  of  the  attacks  made  upon  America  by  the  king 
and  ministry  of  Great  Britain,  counselled  a  union  in  the 

*  Essays,  by  A.  Hayward,  Esq.,  Q.  C.,  3d  series,  p.  50. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  235 

general  defence,  and  predicted  that  future  generations  would 
quote  the  proceedings  of  this  Congress  with  applause.  A 
step  in  advance  of  his  time,  as  he  had  ever  been,  he  went 
far  beyond  the  spirit  of  the  other  delegates,  who,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Adamses  and  Gadsden,  did  not  counsel  or 
desire  independence.  "  An  entire  new  government  must 
be  founded,"  was  his  cry;  "this  is  the  first  in  a  never- 
ending  succession  of  Congresses,"  his  prophecy.  And 
gathering  up,  as  it  was  the  gift  of  his  genius  to  do,  the 
thought  that  was  foremost  in  every  mind  about  him,  he 
spoke  it  in  a  single  phrase :  "  British  oppression  has  effaced 
the  boundaries  of  the  several  colonies ;  I  am  not  a  Vir 
ginian,  but  an  American." 

My  countrymen,  we  cannot  exaggerate  the  debt  we  owe 
this  man.  The  strength  of  his  intellect,  the  fervor  of  his 
eloquence,  the  earnestness  of  his  patriotism,  and  the  courage 
of  his  heart  placed  him  in  the  front  rank  of  those  early 
patriots,  and  he  stands  among  them  the  model  of  a  more 
than  Roman  virtue.  His  eloquence  was  one  of  the  chief 
forces  of  the  American  Revolution — as  necessary  to  that 
great  cause  as  the  intelligence  of  Franklin,  the  will  of 
Samuel  Adams,  the  pen  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  or  the  sword 
of  Washington.  In  such  times  of  a  nation's  trial  there  is 
always  one  voice  which  speaks  for  all.  It  echoes  the  spirit 
of  the  age — proud  or  defiant,  glad  or  mournful,  now  raised 
in  triumph,  now  lifted  up  in  lamentation.  Greece  stood  on 
the  Bema  with  Demosthenes ;  indignant  Rome  thundered 
against  Catiline  with  the  tongue  of  Cicero.  The  proud 
eloquence  of  Chatham  rang  out  the  triumphs  of  the  Eng 
lish  name,  and  France  stood  still  to  hear  her  Mirabeati. 
Ireland  herself  pleaded  for  liberty  when  Henry  Grattan 
spoke,  and  the  voice  of  Patrick  Henry  was  the  voice  of 
America,  struggling  to  be  free ! 


236  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

Rest  in  peace,  pure  and  patriotic  heart !  Thy  work  is 
finished  and  thy  fame  secure.  Dead  for  three-quarters  of 
a  century,  thou  art  still  speaking  to  the  sons  of  men. 
Through  all  descending  time  thy  countrymen  shall  repeat 
thy  glowing  words,  and,  as  the  pages  of  their  greatest  bard 
kept  strong  the  virtue  of  the  Grecian  youth,  so  from  the 
grave  shalt  thou,  who  "  spoke  as  Homer  wrote,"*  inspire 
in  the  hearts  of  men  to  be,  that  love  of  liberty  which  filled 
thine  own ! 

Great  as  were  at  first  the  differences  of  interest  and 
opinion  among  the  members  of  the  Congress  of  1774,  there 
were  none  which  their  patriotic  spirits  could  not  reconcile. 
It  was  the  salvation  of  the  Americans  that  they  had  chosen 
for  their  counsellors  men  who  believed,  with  Thomas  Jef 
ferson,  that  "  the  whole  art  of  government  consists  in  the 
art  of  being  honest,"f  and  who  were  enthusiastic  lovers  of 
their  country.  No  matter  how  strong  had  been  their  indi 
vidual  opinions,  or  how  dear  the  separate  interests  involved, 
there  seemed  to  these  men  no  sacrifice  too  great  to  make 
for  the  common  cause.  As  the  debates  progressed,  differ 
ent  views  were  reconciled  and  pet  theories  sacrificed  to  the 
general  judgment.  Day  after  day  they  became  more  united 
and  confidence  increased.  "  This,"  wrote  John  Adams  on 
the  17th  of  September,  "  was  one  of  the  happiest  days  of 
my  life.  In  Congress  we  had  noble  sentiments  and  manly 
eloquence.  This  day  convinced  me  that  America  will  sup 
port  the  Massachusetts  or  perish  with  her."J  After  a  full 
and  free  discussion,  in  which  the  subject  was  considered  in 
all  its  aspects,  it  was  decided  that  each  colony  was  entitled 


*  Memoir  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  vol.  i.  p.  3. 

f  Ibid.,  p.  115. 

t  Journal  of  John  Adams,  vol.  ii.  p.  380. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  237 

to  a  single  vote.  By  this  means  the  integrity  of  the  prov 
inces  was  preserved,  and  out  of  it  grew  the  theory,  so 
familiar  to  us,  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  State.  It  was 
next  agreed  upon  to  rest  the  rights  of  the  colonies  on  an 
historical  basis.  By  this  wise  determination  the  appearance 
of  a  revolution  was  avoided,  while  the  fact  remained  the 
same.  Nor  was  there  a  sudden  break  in  the  long  chain  of 
the  nation's  history ;  the  change  was  gradual,  not  abrupt. 
The  common  law  of  England,  under  the  benign  influence 
of  which  the  young  colonies  had  grown  up,  remained  un 
changed,  and  when,  in  less  than  two  years,  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  created  a  new  government,  the  common 
wealth  quietly  took  the  place  of  king.  The  revolution 
was  then  complete ;  the  struggle  which  followed  was  merely 
to  secure  it ;  and  the  American  grew  strong  with  the  belief 
that  it  was  his  part  to  defend,  not  to  attack — to  preserve, 
not  to  destroy ;  and  that  he  was  fighting  over  again  on  his 
own  soil  the  battle  for  civil  liberty  which  his  forefathers 
had  won  in  England  more  than  a  century  before.  We 
cannot  too  highly  prize  the  wisdom  which  thus  shaped  the 
struggle. 

Having  decided  these  points,  the  Congress  agreed  upon 
a  declaration  of  rights.  First,  then,  they  named  as  natural 
rights  the  enjoyment  of  life,  liberty,  and  fortune.  They 
next  claimed,  as  British  subjects,  to  be  bound  by  no  law  to 
which  they  had  not  consented  by  their  chosen  representa 
tives  (excepting  such  as  might  be  mutually  agreed  upon 
as  necessary  for  the  regulation  of  trade).  They  denied  to 
Parliament  all  power  of  taxation,  and  vested  the  right  of 
legislation  in  their  own  Assemblies.  The  common  law  of 
England  they  declared  to  be  their  birthright,  including  the 
rights  of  a  trial  by  a  jury  of  the  vicinage,  of  public  meet 
ings,  and  petition.  They  protested  against  the  maintenance 


238  THE   CONGRESS   OF  1774. 

in  the  colonies  of  standing  armies  without  their  full  con 
sent,  and  against  all  legislation  by  councils  depending  on 
the  Crown.  Having  thus  proclaimed  their  rights,  they 
calmly  enumerated  the  various  acts  which  had  been  passed 
in  derogation  of  them.  These  were  eleven  in  number, 
passed  in  as  many  years — the  Sugar  Act,  the  Stamp  Act, 
the  Tea  Act,  those  which  provided  for  the  quartering  of 
the  troops,  for  the  supersedure  of  the  New  York  Legisla 
ture,  for  the  trial  in  Great  Britain  of  oifences  committed  in 
America,  for  the  regulation  of  the  government  of  Massa 
chusetts,  for  the  shutting  of  the  port  of  Boston,  and  the  last 
straw,  known  as  the  Quebec  Bill. 

Their  next  care  was  to  suggest  the  remedy.  On  the 
18th  of  October  they  adopted  the  articles  of  American 
Association,  the  signing  of  which  (on  the  20th)  should  be 
regarded  as  the  commencement  of  the  American  Union. 
By  its  provisions,  to  which  they  individually  and  as  a  body 
solemnly  agreed,  they  pledged  the  colonies  to  an  entire 
commercial  non-intercourse  with  Great  Britain,  Ireland, 
the  West  Indies,  and  such  North  American  provinces  as  did 
not  join  the  Association,  until  the  acts  of  which  America 
complained  were  all  repealed.  In  strong  language  they 
denounced  the  slave-trade,  and  agreed  to  hold  non-inter 
course  with  all  who  engaged  therein.  They  urged  upon 
their  fellow-countrymen  the  duties  of  economy,  frugality, 
and  the  development  of  their  own  resources ;  directed  the 
appointment  of  committees  in  every  town  and  village  to 
detect  and  punish  all  violators  of  the  Association,  and  in 
form  each  other  from  time  to  time  of  the  condition  of  affairs; 
and  bound  themselves,  finally,  to  carry  out  the  provisions 
of  the  Association  by  the  sacred  ties  of  "  virtue,  honor,  and 
love  of  country." 

Having  thus  declared  their  rights,  and  their  fixed  deter- 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  239 

mination  to  defend  them,  they  sought  to  conciliate  their 
English  brethren.  In  one  of  the  most  remarkable  state 
papers  ever  written,  they  called  upon  the  people  of  Great 
Britain,  in  a  firm  but  affectionate  tone,  to  consider  the  cause 
for  which  America  was  contending  as  one  in  which  the 
inhabitants  of  the  whole  empire  were  concerned,  adroitly 
reminding  them  that  the  power  which  threatened  the  liber 
ties  of  its  American,  might  more  easily  destroy  those  of  its 
English  subjects.  They  rehearsed  the  history  of  their 
wrongs,  and  "  demanded  nothing  but  to  be  restored  to  the 
condition  in  which  they  were  in  1763."  Appealing  at  last 
to  the  justice  of  the  British  nation  for  a  Parliament  which 
should  overthrow  the  "power  of  a  wicked  and  corrupt 
ministry,"  they  used  these  bold  and  noble  words  :  "  Permit 
us  to  be  as  free  as  yourselves,  and  we  shall  ever  esteem  a 
union  with  you  to  be  our  greatest  glory  and  our  greatest 
happiness ;  we  shall  ever  be  ready  to  contribute  all  in  our 
power  to  the  welfare  of  the  empire ;  we  shall  consider  your 
enemies  as  our  enemies,  your  interests  as  our  own.  But  if 
you  are  determined  that  your  ministers  shall  sport  wantonly 
with  the  rights  of  mankind, — if  neither  the  voice  of  justice, 
the  dictates  of  the  law,  the  principles  of  the  constitution, 
nor  the  suggestions  of  humanity  can  restrain  your  hands 
from  shedding  blood  in  such  an  impious  cause — we  must 
then  tell  you  that  we  will  never  submit  to  be  hewers  of 
wood  or  drawers  of  water  for  any  ministry  or  nation  in  the 
world." 

In  an  address  to  the  people  of  Quebec  they  described  the 
despotic  tendency  of  the  late  change  in  their  government 
effected  by  the  Quebec  Bill,  which  threatened  to  deprive 
them  of  the  blessings  to  which  they  were  entitled  on  be 
coming  English  subjects,  naming  particularly  the  rights  of 
representation,  of  trial  by  jury,  of  liberty  of  person  and 


240  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

habeas  corpus,  of  the  tenure  of  land  by  easy  rents  instead 
of  oppressive  services,  and  especially  that  right  so  essential 
"  to  the  advancement  of  truth,  science,  art,  and  morality," 
"  to  the  diifusion  of  liberal  sentiments"  and  "  the  promotion 
of  union" — "  the  freedom  of  the  press."  "  These  are  the 
rights,"  said  they,  "  without  which  a  people  cannot  be  free 
and  happy,"  and  "  which  we  are,  with  one  mind,  resolved 
never  to  resign  but  with  our  lives."  In  conclusion,  they 
urged  the  Canadians  to  unite  with  their  fellow-colonists 
below  the  St.  Lawrence  in  the  measures  recommended  for 
the  common  good.  They  also  prepared  letters  to  the 
people  of  St.  John's,  Nova  Scotia,  Georgia,  and  East  and 
West  Florida,  who  were  not  represented  in  this  Congress, 
asking  for  their  co-operation  and  support. 

Nor  was  anything  omitted  by  these  men  which  could 
soften  the  hearts  of  their  oppressors.  Declining  to  petition 
Parliament,  they  had  addressed  themselves  to  the  people, 
recognizing  in  them  for  the  first  time  the  sovereign  power. 
They  now  decided  to  petition  the  king.  In  words  both 
humble  and  respectful,  they  renewed  their  allegiance  to  his 
crown,  detailed  the  injuries  inflicted  on  them  by  his  minis 
ters,  and  besought  his  interference  in  their  behalf.  "  We 
ask,"  they  said,  "  but  for  peace,  liberty,  and  safety.  We 
wish  not  a  diminution  of  the  prerogative,  nor  do  we  solicit 
the  grant  of  any  new  right  in  our  favor.  Your  royal 
authority  over  us  and  our  connection  with  Great  Britain, 
we  shall  always  carefully  and  zealously  endeavor  to  sup 
port  and  maintain."  Solemnly  professing  that  their  "  coun 
sels  were  influenced  by  no  other  motive  than  a  dread  of  im 
pending  destruction,"  they  earnestly  besought  their  "  Most 
Gracious  Sovereign"  "  in  the  name  of  his  faithful  people 
in  America,"  "for  the  honor  of  Almighty  God,"  "for 
his  own  glory,"  u  the  interest  of  his  family,"  and  the  good 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774-  241 

and  welfare  of  his  kingdom,  to  suffer  not  the  most  sacred 
"  ties  to  be  further  violated77  in  the  vain  hope  "  of  effects" 
which,  even  if  secured,  could  "  never  compensate  for  the 
calamities  through  which  they  must  be  gained." 

There  remained  now  for  the  Congress  but  one  thing  to 
do — to  render  to  its  countrymen  an  account  of  its  steward 
ship.  In  a  long  letter  to  their  constituents,  the  delegates 
gave  a  summary  of  their  proceedings,  of  the  difficulties  they 
had  encountered,  the  opinions  they  had  formed,  the  policy 
they  had  agreed  to  recommend,  and,  with  a  mournful 
prophecy  of  the  trials  that  were  at  hand,  urged  their  fellow- 
countrymen  "  to  be  in  all  respects  prepared  for  every  con 
tingency."  Such  were,  in  brief,  the  memorable  state  papers 
issued  by  the  First  Continental  Congress.  And,  terrible 
as  were  the  dangers  which  seemed  to  threaten  them  from 
without,  its  members  were  to  be  subjected  to  a  trial  from 
within.  On  the  28th  of  September,  Joseph  Galloway  of 
Pennsylvania,  submitted  to  the  Congress  ,his  famous  plan.* 
A  man  of  talent  and  address,  at  one  time  high  in  the  opin 
ion  and  confidence  of  Franklin,  he  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
Pennsylvania  delegation.  The  Speaker  of  the  House  of 
Assembly,  he  had  wielded  great  influence  in  the  policy  of 
the  province.  Cold,  cautious,  and  at  heart  a  thorough 
royalist,  he  determined,  if  possible,  to  nip  the  patriotic 
movement  in  the  bud.  Seconded  by  Duane  of  New  York, 
he  moved  that  the  Congress  should  recommend  the  estab 
lishment  of  a  British  and  American  government,  to  consist 
of  a  President-General,  appointed  by  the  king,  and  a  Grand 
Council,  to  be  chosen  by  the  several  Legislatures ;  that  the 
Council  should  have  co-ordinate  powers  with  the  British 


*   Vide  Tucker's  History,  vol.  i.  p.  Ill  ;  Sabine's  American  Loy 
alists,  vol.  i.  p.  309  ;  John  Adams's  Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  389. 


242  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774- 

House  of  Commons,  either  body  to  originate  a  law,  but  the 
consent  of  both  to  be  necessary  to  its  passage ;  the  members 
of  the  Council  to  be  chosen  for  three  years,  the  President- 
General  to  hold  office  at  the  pleasure  of  the  king.  Here, 
then,  was  an  ingenious  trap  in  the  very  path  of  the  infant 
nation.  Some  men,  and  good  ones,  too,  fell  into  it.  The 
project  was  earnestly  supported  by  Duane.  The  younger 
Rutledge  thought  it  "  almost  perfect,"  and  it  met  with  the 
warm  approbation  of  the  conservative  Jay.  But  wiser  men 
prevailed.  The  Virginian  and  Massachusetts  members  op 
posed  it  earnestly.  Samuel  Adams  saw  in  it  the  doom  of 
all  hope  for  liberty,  and  Henry  condemned  in  every  aspect 
the  proposal  to  substitute  for  "  a  corrupt  House  of  Com 
mons'7  a  "corruptible"  legislature,  and  intrust  the  power 
of  taxation  to  a  body  not  elected  directly  by  the  people. 
His  views  were  those  of  the  majority,  and  the  dangerous 
proposition  met  with  a  prompt  defeat.  The  Suffolk  County 
resolutions,  adopted  on  the  9th  of  September,  at  Milton, 
Massachusetts,  had  reached  Philadelphia  and  the  Congress 
on  the  17th,  and  awakened  in  every  breast  the  warmest 
admiration  and  sympathy.  Resolutions  were  unanimously 
adopted,  expressing  these  feelings  in  earnest  language,  rec 
ommending  to  their  brethren  of  Suffolk  County  "a  perse 
verance  in  the  same  firm  and  temperate  conduct,"  and 
urging  upon  the  people  of  the  other  colonies  the  duty  of 
contributing  freely  to  the  necessities  of  the  Bostonians. 
There  now  came  a  still  more  touching  appeal  from  Massa 
chusetts.  "  The  governor,"  it  said,  "  was  suffering  the  sol 
diery  to  treat  both  town  and  country  as  declared  enemies ;" 
the  course  of  trade  was  stopped ;  the  administration  of  law 
obstructed;  a  state  of  anarchy  prevailed.  Filled  with  the 
spirit  which,  in  olden  times,  had  led  the  Athenians  to  leave 
their  city  to  the  foe  and  make  their  ships  their  country,  this 


THE   CONGRESS   OF  1774.  243 

gallant  people  promised  to  obey  should  the  Congress  advise 
them  to  "  quit  their  town ;"  but  if  it  is  judged,  they  added, 
that  "  by  maintaining  their  ground  they  can  better  serve 
the  public  cause,  they  will  not  shrink  from  hardship  and 
danger."*  Such  an  appeal  as  this  could  not  have  waited 
long  for  a  worthy  answer  from  the  men  of  the  First  Amer 
ican  Congress.  The  letter  was  received  upon  October  6th. 
Two  days  later  the  official  journal  contains  these  words  : 
"Upon  motion  it  was  resolved  that  this  Congress  approve 
the  opposition  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay 
to  the  execution  of  the  late  acts  of  Parliament ;  and  if  the 
same  shall  be  attempted  to  be  carried  into  execution,  all 
America  ought  to  support  them  in  their  opposition." 
"  This,"  says  the  historian,  "  is  the  measure  which  hardened 
George  the  Third  to  listen  to  no  terms."f  In  vain  con 
ciliation  and  kind  words ;  in  vain  all  assurances  of  affection 
and  of  loyalty.  The  men  of  Massachusetts  are  traitors  to 
their  king,  and  the  Congress  of  all  the  colonies  upholds 
them  in  rebellion.  "Henceforth,"  says  Bancroft,  "con 
ciliation  became  impossible." 

Having  thus  asserted  their  rights  to  the  enjoyment  of 
life,  liberty,  and  fortune ;  their  resistance  to  taxation  with 
out  representation;  their  purpose  to  defend  their  ancient 
charters  from  assault ;  having  denounced  the  slave-trade  in 

*  The  spirit  of  this  people  is  reflected  in  a  letter  from  Boston, 
printed  in  the  Pennsylvania  Packet  for  October  10,  1774,  describing 
a  conversation  which  the  writer  had  with  a  fisherman.  "  I  said : 
'Don't  you  think  it  time  to  submit,  pay  for  the  tea,  and  get  the 
harbor  opened?'  'Submit?  No.  It  can  never  be  time  to  become 
slaves.  I  have  yet  some  pork  and  meal,  and  when  they  are  gone  I 
will  eat  clams ;  and  after  we  have  dug  up  all  the  clam-banks,  if  the 
Congress  will  not  let  us  fight,  I  will  retreat  to  the  woods;  I  am 
always  sure  of  acorns  !'  " 

f  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  vii.  p.  145. 


244  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

language  which  startled  the  world,  and  recognized,  for  the 
first  time  in  history,  the  People  as  the  source  of  Authority ; 
having  laid  the  firm  foundations  of  a  Union  based  upon 
Freedom  and  Equality — the  First  Congress  passed  out  of 
existence  on  the  26th  of  October,  after  a  session  of  two 
and  fifty  days.  Half  a  hundred  men,  born  in  a  new 
country,  bred  amid  trials  and  privations,  chosen  from  every 
rank  of  life,  untried  in  diplomacy,  unskilled  in  letters,  un 
trained  in  statecraft,  called  suddenly  together  in  a  troubled 
time  to  advise  a  hitherto  divided  people,  they  had  shown 
a  tact,  a  judgment,  a  self-command,  and  a  sincere  love 
of  country  hardly  to  be  found  in  the  proudest  annals  of 
antiquity.  And  their  countrymen  were  worthy  of  them. 
If  the  manner  in  which  they  had  fulfilled  their  duties  had 
been  extraordinary,  the  spirit  with  which  their  counsels 
were  received  was  still  more  remarkable.  In  every  part 
of  the  country  the  recommendations  of  the  Congress  were 
obeyed  as  binding  law.  No  despotic  power  in  any  period 
of  history  exercised  over  the  minds  and  hearts  of  men  a 
more  complete  control.  The  Articles  of  Association  were 
signed  by  tens  of  thousands,  the  spirit  of  Union  grew 
strong  in  every  breast,  and  the  Americans  steadily  prepared 
to  meet  the  worst.  The  stirring  influence  of  this  example 
penetrated  to  the  most  distant  lands.  "  The  Congress/7 
wrote  Dr.  Franklin  from  London  in  the  following  winter, 
"is  in  high  favor  here  among  the  friends  of  liberty."* 
"  For  a  long  time,"  cried  the  eloquent  Charles  Botta,  "  no 
spectacle  has  been  offered  to  the  attention  of  mankind  of 
so  powerful  an  interest  as  this  of  the  present  American 
Congress."f  "It  is  impossible,"  says  the  Scotch  writer, 

*  Letter  to  Charles  Thomson,  5th  February,  1775 ;  Watson's  An 
nals  of  Philadelphia,  vol.  i.  p.  421. 
f  Otis's  Botta,  vol.  i.  p.  128. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  245 

Grahame,  "  to  read  of  its  transactions  without  the  highest 
admiration.77*  "There  never  was  a  body  of  delegates 
more  faithful  to  the  interests  of  their  constituents,77  was 
the  opinion  of  David  Ramsay,  the  historian.f  "  From  the 
moment  of  their  first  debates/'  De  Tocqueville  says,  "Eu 
rope  was  moved.77 J  The  judgment  of  John  Adams  de 
clared  them  to  be,  "  in  point  of  abilities,  virtues,  and 
fortunes,  the  greatest  men  upon  the  continent.7'§  Charles 
Thomson,  in  the  evening  of  his  well-spent  life,  pronounced 
them  "  the  purest  and  ablest  patriots  he  had  ever  known  ;77|| 
and,  in  the  very  face  of  king  and  Parliament,  the  illustrious 
Chatham  spoke  of  them  the  well-known  words :  "  I  must 
avow  and  declare  that  in  all  my  reading  of  history — and 
it  has  been  my  favorite  study;  I  have  read  Thucydides 
and  admired  the  master  states  of  the  world — that  for 
solidity  of  reasoning,  force  of  sagacity,  and  wisdom  of  con 
clusion,  under  such  a  complication  of  circumstances,  no 
nation  or  body  of  men  can  stand  in  preference  to  the  Gen 
eral  Congress  assembled  in  Philadelphia.7'^  Long  years 
have  passed,  and  there  have  been  many  changes  in  the 
governments  of  men.  The  century  which  has  elapsed  has 
been  crowded  with  great  events,  but  the  calm  judgment  of 
posterity  has  confirmed  that  opinion,  and  mankind  has  not 

*  History  of  the  United  States,  by  James  Grahame,  LL.D.,  vol. 
ii.  p.  496. 

f  History  of  the  American  Revolution,  by  David  Ramsay,  M.D., 
vol.  i.  p.  174. 

%  La  Democratic  en  Am6rique,  by  Alexis  de  Tocqueville,  vol.  iii. 
p.  182. 

$  John  Adams's  Letters  to  his  Wife,  vol.  i.  p.  21. 

||  Field-Book  of  the  Revolution,  by  B.  J.  Lossing,  vol.  ii.  p.  60, 
note. 

Tl  Speech  in  Favor  of  the  Removal  of  Troops  from  Boston,  Jan 
uary  20,  1775. 


246  THE  CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

ceased  to  admire  the  spectacle  which  was  once  enacted  here. 
"  But  that  you  may  be  more  earnest  in  the  defence  of  your 
country/7  cried  the  great  Roman  orator,  speaking  in  a  vision 
with  the  tongue  of  Scipio,  "  know  from  me  that  a  certain 
place  in  heaven  is  assigned  to  all  who  have  preserved,  or 
assisted,  or  improved  their  country,  where  they  are  to  enjoy 
an  endless  duration  of  happiness.  For  there  is  nothing 
which  takes  place  on  earth  more  acceptable  to  the  Supreme 
Deity,  who  governs  all  this  world,  than  those  councils  and 
assemblies  of  men,  bound  together  by  law,  which  are  termed 
states;  the  founders  and  preservers  of  these  come  from 
heaven,  and  thither  do  they  return."*  The  founders  and 
preservers  of  this  Union  have  vanished  from  the  earth, 
those  true  lovers  of  their  country  have  long  since  been 
consigned  into  her  keeping,  but  their  memory  clings 
around  this  place,  and  hath  hallowed  it  for  evermore. 
Here  shall  men  come  as  to  a  sanctuary.  Here  shall  they 
gather  with  each  returning  anniversary,  and  as  the  story 
of  these  lives  falls  from  the  lips  of  him  who  shall  then 
stand  where  I  stand  to-day,  their  souls  shall  be  stirred 
within  them  and  their  hearts  be  lifted  up,  and  none  shall 
despair  of  the  Republic  while  she  can  find  among  her 
children  the  courage,  the  wisdom,  the  eloquence,  the  self- 
sacrifice,  the  lofty  patriotism,  and  the  spotless  honor  of 
those  who  assembled  in  this  hall  an  hundred  years  ago. 

The  conditions  of  life  are  always  changing,  and  the 
experience  of  the  fathers  is  rarely  the  experience  of  the 
sons.  The  temptations  which  are  trying  us  are  not  the 
temptations  which  beset  their  footsteps,  nor  the  dangers 
which  threaten  our  pathway  the  dangers  which  surrounded 
them.  These  men  were  few  in  number,  we  are  many. 

*  Cicero,  De  Re  Publica,  lib.  vi. ;  Somnium  Scipionis,  §  iii. 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  247 

They  were  poor,  but  we  are  rich.  They  were  weak,  but 
we  are  strong.  What  is  it,  countrymen,  that  we  need  to 
day  ?  Wealth  ?  Behold  it  in  your  hands.  Power  ?  God 
hath  given  it  you.  Liberty  ?  It  is  your  birthright.  Peace? 
It  dwells  among  you.  You  have  a  government  founded 
in  the  hearts  of  men,  built  by  the  people  for  the  common 
good.  You  have  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey ; 
your  homes  are  happy,  your  workshops  busy,  your  barns 
are  full.  The  school,  the  railway,  the  telegraph,  the  print 
ing-press  have  welded  you  together  into  one.  Descend 
those  mines  that  honeycomb  the  hills  !  Behold  that  com 
merce  whitening  every  sea !  Stand  by  your  gates  and  see 
that  multitude  pour  through  them  from  the  corners  of  the 
earth,  grafting  the  qualities  of  older  stocks  upon  one  stem, 
mingling  the  blood  of  many  races  in  a  common  stream, 
and  swelling  the  rich  volume  of  our  English  speech  with 
varied  music  from  an  hundred  tongues.  You  have  a  long 
and  glorious  history,  a  past  glittering  with  heroic  deeds,  an 
ancestry  full  of  lofty  and  imperishable  examples.  You 
have  passed  through  danger,  endured  privation,  been 
acquainted  with  sorrow,  been  tried  by  suffering.  You 
have  journeyed  in  safety  through  the  wilderness  and 
crossed  in  triumph  the  Red  Sea  of  civil  strife,  and  the 
foot  of  Him  who  led  you  hath  not  faltered  nor  the  light 
of  His  countenance  been  turned  away !  It  is  a  question 
for  us  now,  not  of  the  founding  of  a  new  government,  but 
of  the  preservation  of  one  already  old ;  not  of  the  forma 
tion  of  an  independent  power,  but  of  the  purification  of  a 
nation's  life ;  not  of  the  conquest  of  a  foreign  foe,  but  of 
the  subjection  of  ourselves.  The  capacity  of  man  to  rule 
himself  is  to  be  proven  in  the  days  to  come — not  by  the 
greatness  of  his  wealth,  not  by  his  valor  in  the  field,  not 
by  the  extent  of  his  dominion,  not  by  the  splendor  of  his 


248  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

genius.  The  dangers  of  to-day  come  from  within.  The 
worship  of  self,  the  love  of  power,  the  lust  of  gold,  the 
weakening  of  faith,  the  decay  of  public  virtue,  the  lack  of 
private  worth — these  are  the  perils  which  threaten  our 
future;  these  are  the  enemies  we  have  to  fear;  these  are 
the  traitors  which  infest  the  camp ;  and  the  danger  was  far 
less  when  Catiline  knocked  with  his  army  at  the  gates  of 
Rome  than  when  he  sat  smiling  in  the  Senate  House.  We 
see  them  daily  face  to  face — in  the  walk  of  virtue,  in  the 
road  to  wealth,  in  the  path  to  honor,  on  the  way  to  happi 
ness.  There  is  no  peace  between  them  and  our  safety. 
Nor  can  we  avoid  them  and  turn  back.  It  is  not  enough 
to  rest  upon  the  past.  No  man  or  nation  can  stand  still. 
We  must  mount  upward  or  go  down.  We  must  grow  worse 
or  better.  It  is  the  Eternal  Law — we  cannot  change  it. 
Nor  are  we  only  concerned  in  what  we  do.  This  govern 
ment,  which  our  ancestors  have  built,  has  been  "  a  refuge 
for  the  oppressed  of  every  race  and  clime,"  where  they 
have  gathered  for  a  century.  The  fugitive  of  earlier  times 
knew  no  such  shelter  among  the  homes  of  men.  Cold, 
naked,  bleeding,  there  was  no  safety  for  him  save  at  the 
altars  of  imagined  gods.  I  have  seen  one  of  the  most 
famous  of  those  ancient  sanctuaries.  On  a  bright  day  in 
spring-time  I  looked  out  over  acres  of  ruin.  Beside  me 
the  blue  sea  plashed  upon  a  beach  strewn  with  broken 
marble.  That  sacred  floor,  polished  with  the  penitential 
knees  of  centuries,  was  half  hidden  with  heaps  of  rubbish 
and  giant  weeds.  The  fox  had  his  den  among  the  stones, 
and  the  fowl  of  the  air  her  nest  upon  the  capitals.  No 
sound  disturbed  them  in  their  solitude,  save  sometimes  the 
tread  of  an  adventurous  stranger,  or  the  stealthy  footfall 
of  the  wild  beasts  and  wilder  men  that  crept  down  out  of 
the  surrounding  hills  under  cover  of  the  night.  The  god 


THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774.  249 

had  vanished,  his  seat  was  desolate,  the  oracle  was  dumb. 
Far  different  was  the  temple  which  our  fathers  builded, 
and  "  builded  better  than  they  knew."  The  blood  of  mar 
tyrs  was  spilled  on  its  foundations,  and  a  suffering  people 
raised  its  walls  with  prayer.  Temple  and  fortress,  it  still 
stands  secure,  and  the  smile  of  Providence  gilds  plinth, 
architrave,  and  column.  Greed  is  alone  the  Tarpeia  that 
can  betray  it,  and  vice  the  only  Samson  that  can  pull  it 
down.  It  is  the  Home  of  Liberty,  as  boundless  as  a  con 
tinent,  "as  broad  and  general  as  the  casing  air;"  a  "temple 
not  made  with  hands ;"  a  sanctuary  that  shall  not  fall,  but 
stand  on  forever,  founded  in  eternal  truth ! 

My  countrymen :  the  moments  are  quickly  passing,  and 
we  stand  like  some  traveller  upon  a  lofty  crag  that  separates 
two  boundless  seas. 

The  century  that  is  closing  is  complete.  "The  past," 
said  your  great  statesman,  "is  secure."  It  is  finished,  and 
beyond  our  reach.  The  hand  of  detraction  cannot  dim  its 
glories  nor  the  tears  of  repentance  wipe  away  its  stains. 
Its  good  and  evil,  its  joy  and  sorrow,  its  truth  and  false 
hood,  its  honor  and  its  shame,  we  cannot  touch.  Sigh  for 
them,  blush  for  them,  weep  for  them,  if  we  will ;  we  can 
not  change  them  now.  We  might  have  done  so  once,  but 
we  cannot  now.  The  old  century  is  dying,  and  they  are 
to  be  buried  with  him;  his  history  is  finished,  and  they 
will  stand  upon  his  roll  forever. 

The  century  that  is  opening  is  all  our  own.  The  years 
that  lie  before  us  are  a  virgin  page.  We  can  inscribe  it 
as  we  will.  The  future  of  our  country  rests  upon  us — the 
happiness  of  posterity  depends  on  us.  The  fate  of  humanity 
may  be  in  our  hands.  That  pleading  voice,  choked  with 
the  sobs  of  ages,  which  has  so  often  spoken  unto  ears  of 
stone,  is  lifted  up  to  us.  It  asks  us  to  be  brave,  benevolent, 

17 


250  THE   CONGRESS  OF  1774. 

consistent,  true  to  the  teachings  of  our  history — proving 
"  divine  descent  by  worth  divine."  It  asks  us  to  be  virtu 
ous,  building  up  public  virtue  upon  private  worth ;  seeking 
that  righteousness  which  exalteth  nations.  It  asks  us  to 
be  patriotic — loving  our  country  before  all  other  things; 
her  happiness  our  happiness,  her  honor  ours,  her  fame  our 
own.  It  asks  us  in  the  name  of  Justice,  in  the  name  of 
Charity,  in  the  name  of  Freedom,  in  the  name  of  God ! 

My  countrymen :  this  anniversary  has  gone  by  forever, 
and  my  task  is  done.  While  I  have  spoken  the  hour  has 
passed  from  us ;  the  hand  has  moved  upon  the  dial,  and 
the  Old  Century  is  dead.  The  American  Union  hath  en 
dured  an  hundred  years !  Here,  on  this  threshold  of  the 
future,  the  voice  of  humanity  shall  not  plead  to  us  in  vain. 
There  shall  be  darkness  in  the  days  to  come ;  Danger  for 
our  Courage ;  Temptation  for  our  Virtue ;  Doubt  for  our 
Faith ;  Suffering  for  our  Fortitude.  A  thousand  shall  fall 
before  us  and  tens  of  thousands  at  our  right  hand.  The 
years  shall  pass  beneath  our  feet,  and  century  follow  cen 
tury  in  quick  succession.  The  generations  of  men  shall 
come  and  go ;  the  greatness  of  Yesterday  shall  be  forgotten 
To-day,  and  the  glories  of  this  Noon  shall  vanish  before 
To-morrow's  sun ;  but  America  shall  not  perish,  but  endure, 
while  the  spirit  of  our  fathers  animates  their  sons ! 


"THE   SETTLEMENT   OF   BUELINGTOK" 


AN"  ORATION 


DELIVERED  IN  THAT  CITY  DECEMBER  6,  1877, 


IN    COMMEMORATION    OF 


THE  TWO  HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY 


OF    ITS    SETTLEMENT 


BY  THE  PASSENGERS  OF  THE  GOOD  SHIP  KENT,  WHO 

LANDED   AT   RACCOON   CREEK,  AUGUST  16,  0.  S.,  AND  LAID  OUT 

THE  TOWN  ON  CHYGOE'S  ISLAND  "  TOWARDS 

YE  LATTER  PART  OF  YE  STH 

MONTH,"  1677. 


ORATION. 


THERE  are  few  events  in  American  history  more  interest 
ing  than  that  which  we  commemorate  to-day.  There  are 
few  stories  more  honorable  than  that  which  I  shall  have  to 
tell.  The  sun  which  has  broken  through  the  clouds  of  this 
morning  with  such  unexpected  and  auspicious  splendor,  has 
rarely  looked  down  upon  an  anniversary  more  worthy  to 
be  observed  than  this  which  marks  the  peaceful  planting 
of  a  people — the  founding  of  a  free  and  happy  common 
wealth.  The  life  of  old  Burlington  has  been  a  modest  one. 
She  sings  no  epic-song  of  hard-fought  fields  and  gallant 
deeds  of  arms ;  she  tells  no  tales  of  conquest,  of  well-won 
triumphs,  of  bloody  victories.  Seated  in  smiling  meadows 
and  guarded  by  the  encircling  pines,  her  days  have  been 
full  of  quietness  and  all  her  paths  of  peace.  The  hand  of 
Time  has  touched  her  forehead  lightly.  The  centuries 
have  flown  by  so  softly  that  she  has  hardly  heard  the  rustle 
of  their  wings.  The  stream  of  years  has  flowed  before  her 
feet  as  smoothly  as  the  broad  bosom  of  her  own  great  river 
by  whose  banks  she  dwells.  But  her  history  is  none  the 
less  worthy  to  be  remembered,  for  it  is  full  of  those  things 
which  good  men  rejoice  to  find  in  the  character  of  their 
ancestors — of  a  courage  meek  but  dauntless,  a  self-sacrifice 
lowly  but  heroic,  a  wisdom  humble  and  yet  lofty,  a  love  of 
humanity  that  nothing  could  quench,  a  devotion  to  liberty 
that  was  never  shaken,  an  unfaltering  and  childlike  faith 

253 


254  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

in  God.  And  it  is  right  that  it  be  remembered  by  those 
who  enjoy  the  blessings  which  such  qualities  have  won. 
"  I  wish,"  wrote  one  who  had  witnessed  the  beginning,  de 
scribing  in  her  old  age  the  dangers  and  trials  of  her  youth, 
"  I  wish  they  that  come  after  may  consider  these  things."* 
Seven-score  years  have  gone  since  that  was  written.  The 
heart  that  held  that  hope  has  long  been  still.  The  hand 
that  wrote  those  words  has  been  motionless  for  more  than 
a  century,  and  the  kindred  to  whom  they  were  addressed 
have  vanished  from  the  earth.  But  here  to-day  in  that 
ancient  town,  strangely  unaltered  by  the  changes  of  two 
centuries  —  here  amid  scenes  with  which  those  venerable 
eyes  were  so  familiar  —  we  who  have  "come  after"  have 
assembled  to  fulfil  that  pious  wish,  to  "consider  those 
things"  with  reverence  and  gratitude,  and  take  care  that 
they  be  held  hereafter  in  eternal  remembrance  and  everlast 
ing  honor. 

The  causes  which  led  to  the  event  which  it  is  my  duty  to 
describe  to-day  are  to  be  found  in  one  of  the  most  interest 
ing  periods  of  English  history.  The  attempt  of  Charles  I. 
to  secure  for  the  Crown  a  power  which  not  even  the  pride 
of  Henry  VIII.  had  claimed,  had  ended  in  disastrous  fail 
ure.  Conquered  by  his  people,  the  unfortunate  monarch 
had  paid  for  his  folly  with  his  life  —  a  victim  less  of  polit 
ical  hatred  than  of  that  personal  distrust  which  his  frequent 
want  of  faith  had  planted  in  the  breast  of  friends  and 
foes  —  and  England  was  nominally  at  peace.  In  reality, 
however,  she  continued  in  commotion.  The  excesses  into 
which  their  triumph  over  their  king  and  his  party  not  un- 


*  Account  of  Mary  Murfin  Smith  in  Baxter  and  Howe's  New 
Jersey  Historical  Collection,  p.  90.  Mrs.  Smith  came  over  with 
her  parents  while  yet  a  child.  She  was  drowned  in  1739. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  255 

naturally  led  the  victors  were  soon  over,  and  already,  in 
1650,  the  reaction  had  set  in  which  was  destined  to  lead  the 
country  backward  to  the  Restoration.  But  the  passions 
into  which  the  civil  wars  had  thrown  all  classes  would  not 
easily  cool.  The  struggle  of  the  Cavalier  and  the  Round 
head  was  not  like  that  in  which  two  great  sections  of  a  vast 
country — each  in  itself  a  unit — are  pitted  against  each  other. 
It  aroused  feelings  far  more  personal  and  bitter.  Families 
were  divided  among  themselves,  and  every  man  was  in  arms 
against  his  neighbor.  No  single  county  had  borne  the 
brunt  of  a  war  which  had  involved  all  alike,  ravaged  the 
whole  country,  and  brought  desolation  to  half  the  hearths 
in  England ;  and,  though  peace  might  be  proclaimed,  some 
of  the  spirits  which  it  had  called  up  would  not  down  even  at 
the  bidding  of  such  a  man  as  Cromwell.  Feared  at  home 
and  abroad,  and  armed  with  an  authority  which  belonged 
less  to  his  office  than  to  himself,  the  victor  of  Worcester 
could  govern  his  turbulent  countrymen,  but  pacify  and  unite 
them  he  could  not.  It  might  have  been  possible  had  their 
differences  been  simply  political,  but  a  deeper  feeling  entered 
into  all  the  actions  of  that  time.  It  was  the  age  of  politico- 
religious  fanaticism.  The  Cavalier  and  the  Roundhead, 
the  Royalist  and  the  Republican,  had  they  been  nothing 
more,  might  have  been  made  to  sit  down  in  peace  together 
under  a  liberal  and  strong  government,  which,  though  it 
represented  the  peculiar  ideas  of  neither,  expressed  in  its 
actions  many  of  the  views  of  both.  But  Baptist,  Presby 
terian,  and  Independent,  Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic 
no  man  could  reconcile,  and  between  the  many  sects  which 
the  spirit  of  free  inquiry  had  bred  in  the  heat  of  those 
fanatic  days  the  most  vigorous  ruler  England  had  ever  seen 
had  hard  work  to  keep  the  peace.  It  is  not  easy  in  these 
colder,  calmer  times  to  understand  the  polemic  spirit  of  that 


256  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

age.  It  had  arisen  suddenly  and  grown  with  amazing 
speed,  and  the  transition  from  the  manners  of  the  time 
when  the  graceful  Buckingham  had  set  the  fashion  to  those 
of  a  day  in  which  the  psalm-singing  soldier  of  Cromwell 
stood  guard  before  Whitehall,  was  as  extraordinary  as  it 
had  been  startling  and  abrupt.  Religion  now  was  the 
mainspring  of  men's  actions,  the  subject  of  their  talk,  the 
basis  of  their  politics,  the  object  of  their  lives.  It  is  strange 
that  religious  liberty  remained  yet  to  be  contended  for.  Too 
near  to  the  Reformation  to  have  escaped  its  spirit,  and  not 
far  enough  from  Philip  and  Mary's  day  to  have  forgotten 
the  crimes  committed  in  their  name — of  which  indeed  he 
had  had  beneath  his  eyes  a  constant  reminder  in  the  scenes 
of  which  Holland  had  been  the  theatre  for  more  than  sixty 
years — the  Englishman  of  1650  was  sincerely  and  aggres 
sively  a  Protestant,  and  it  might  naturally  have  been  ex 
pected  that  religious  freedom  would  in  his  mind  have  gone 
hand  in  hand  with  the  civil  liberty  for  which  he  had  recently 
gained  such  splendid  and  substantial  triumphs.  But  such 
was  not  the  case.  Free  from  political  tyranny  from  within, 
he  would  not  brook  even  the  semblance  of  interference  in 
religious  matters  from  without,  but,  in  the  fierce  contro 
versies  of  Englishmen  with  each  other,  liberty  of  conscience 
meant  to  the  zealous  theologian  of  that  day — when  all  men 
claimed  to  be  theologians — only  the  right  of  all  other  men 
to  yield  their  own  opinions  and  agree  with  him.  It  was 
soon  observed  that  the  sincere  bigotry  of  the  Roman  Cath 
olic  and  the  proud  intolerance  of  the  English  Churchman 
had  only  given  place  to  a  fervent  but  narrow  piety,  which, 
like  them,  would  brook  no  opposition,  mistook  differences 
of  opinion  for  hostility,  and  watched  all  other  creeds  with  a 
jealous  and  unchristian  eye.  Forgetful  of  the  truth  that 
all  cannot  think  alike,  mixing  essentials  and  non-essentials 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLIKQTON.  257 

iii  blind  confusion,  and  armed  with  the  cant  and  loose 
learning  of  the  day,  men  went  forth  to  controversy  as  the 
knights  errant  of  an  earlier  and  more  chivalric,  but  not  more 
zealous,  age  went  forth  to  battle.  Each  sect  became  a  po 
litical  party,  and  every  party  a  religious  sect.  Each  in  its 
turn,  according  to  its  power,  persecuted  the  others,  and  all 
united  to  persecute  the  Quakers. 

I  have  no  time  to-day  to  describe  the  rise  of  the  Society 
of  Friends.  Considered  only  as  a  political  event  and  in  its 
bearing  upon  the  struggle  for  civil  and  religious  liberty,  it 
is  a  strange  chapter  in  the  history  of  progress,  and  it  is  one 
of  the  peculiar  glories  of  those  whom  the  world  calls 
Quakers,  that  without  justice  to  their  achievements  such  a 
history  would  be  incomplete.*  It  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
stormiest  years  of  the  civil  war  that  George  Fox  began  his 
ministry.  An  humble  youth  watching  his  flocks  by  night 
in  the  fields  of  Nottingham,  he  had  heard,  as  he  believed, 
the  voice  of  God  within  him,  and  seen  afar  off  the  star 
that  was  to  become  the  beacon  of  his  chosen  people.  That 
light  shining  impartially  on  all ;  that  voice  speaking  to  the 
hearts  of  all  alike ;  God  and  the  soul  of  man  in  close  com 
munion — the  Creator  and  the  humblest  of  his  creatures 
face  to  face — here  was  at  last  the  scheme  of  a  spiritual 
democracy  striving  to  lead  all  men  in  a  single  pathway, 
and  unite  the  nations  under  the  same  promise  of  salvation. 
A  mystery  even  to  himself,  and  believing  that  he  was 
divinely  appointed,  Fox  went  forth  to  preach  to  his  coun 
trymen  the  new  gospel  founded  on  freedom  of  conscience, 
purity  of  life,  and  the  equality  of  man.f  The  times  were 


*  Vide  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  ii.  chap.  xvi. 
f  Vide  Fox's  Life,  Barclay's  Apology,  Gough  and  Sewell,  Besse, 
and  Penn's  Witness. 


258  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

ripe  for  such  a  mission.  The  public  mind  was  like  tinder, 
and  the  fire  that  came  from  the  lips  of  the  young  enthusiast 
soon  set  England  in  a  blaze.  The  people  flocked  to  hear 
him,  and  his  enemies  became  alarmed.  Here  was  not  only 
a  new  religious  creed,  but  a  dangerous  political  doctrine. 
Here  was  an  idea,  that,  once  embodied  in  a  sect,  would 
strike  a  blow  at  caste  and  privilege,  and  shake  the  very 
foundations  of  society.  But  nothing  availed  to  tie  the 
tongue  of  Fox  or  cool  the  fervor  of  his  spirit.  Threatened, 
fined,  and  beaten,  he  turned  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor 
to  the  left.  Often  imprisoned,  he  was  released  only  to  set 
forth  again  undaunted. 

His  followers  rapidly  increased,  and  the  sober  yeomanry 
of  England  began  to  abandon  all  and  follow  him.  At 
Cromwell's  death  the  Quakers  were  already  a  numerous 
people.  At  the  Restoration  they  had  grown  to  dangerous 
proportions.  Obnoxious  naturally  to  all  parties,  there  were 
reasons  why  they  incurred  especial  hatred.  Their  refusal 
to  fight,  to  take  an  oath,  to  pay  tithes  or. taxes  for  the  re 
pairs  of  churches,  or  acknowledge  the  authority  of  the 
priesthood,  their  determination  to  worship  God  publicly 
and  proclaim  the  truth  abroad,  aroused  the  hatred  of  the 
Church,  angered  all  other  sects,  and  brought  against  them 
the  penalties  of  the  existing  law,  while  their  simple  but 
unwavering  determination  not  to  take  off  their  hats,  "  not 
for  want  of  courtesy,"  as  they  said,  but  as  a  symbol  of  their 
belief  in  man's  equality,  gained  for  them  the  suspicious 
hostility  of  those  whose  privileges  such  a  principle  would 
utterly  destroy. 

Against  them,  therefore,  was  directed  the  vengeance  of 
all  parties  and  of  every  sect.  Under  all  governments  it 
was  the  same,  and  the  Quaker  met  with  even  worse  treat 
ment  from  the  Puritan  government  of  New  England  than 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  259 

he  had  received  from  either  the  stern  republican  of  Crom 
well's  time  or  the  gay  courtier  of  the  Restoration.  Though 
his  hand  was  lifted  against  no  man,  all  men's  were  laid 
heavily  on  him.  Everywhere  he  was  exposed  to  persecution 
and  nowhere  understood.  His  religion  was  called  fanaticism, 
his  courage  stubbornness,  his  frugality  avarice,  his  simplicity 
ignorance,  his  piety  hypocrisy,  his  freedom  infidelity,  his 
conscientiousness  rebellion.  In  England  the  statutes  against 
Dissenters,  and  every  law  that  could  be  twisted  for  the 
purpose,  were  vigorously  enforced  against  him.*  Special 
ones  were  enacted  for  his  benefit,  and  even  Charles  II.,  from 
whose  restoration  they,  in  common  with  all  men,  expected 
some  relief — good-natured  Charles,  who  in  general  found 
it  as  hard  to  hate  his  enemies  as  to  remember  his  friends ; 
too  indolent,  for  the  most  part,  either  to  keep  his  word  or 
lose  his  temper — took  the  trouble  to  exclude  the  Quakers 
by  name  from  all  indulgence.f  During  the  Long  Parlia 
ment,  under  the  Protectorate,  at  the  Restoration — for  more 
than  thirty  years— they  were  exposed  to  persecution,  fined, 
turned  out-of-doors,  mobbed,  stoned,  beaten,  set  in  the 
stocks,  crowded  in  gaols  in  summer,  and  kept  in  foul  dun 
geons  without  fire  in  the  winter-time,  to  be  released  at  last 
and  sold  into  colonial  bondage.^  But  though  they  fought 
no  fight,  they  kept  the  faith.  Whatever  history  may  record 
of  their  lives ;  whatever  learning  may  think  of  their  at 
tainments  ;  whatever  philosophy  may  say  of  their  intelli 
gence;  whatever  theology  may  hold  about  their  creed; 
whatever  judgment  a  calmer  posterity,  in  the  light  of  a 

*  Vide  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  ii.  chap.  xvi. 

f  Letter  of  the  King  to  the  Massachusetts  Government. 

J  Vide  Williamson's  North  Carolina.  In  one  vessel,  in  March, 
1664,  sixty  Quaker  convicts  were  shipped  for  America.  Vide  also 
Besse  and  Fox's  Journal,  Anno  1665. 


260  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

higher  civilization  and  a  freer  age,  may  pass  upon  their 
actions,  none  can  deny  that  they  were  men  who  sought  the 
faith  with  zeal,  believed  with  sincerity,  met  danger  with 
courage,  and  bore  suffering  with  extraordinary  fortitude. 
Gold  had  no  power  to  seduce,  nor  arms  to  frighten  them. 
"  They  are  a  people,"  said  the  great  Protector,  "  whom  I 
cannot  win  with  gifts,  honors,  offices,  or  places."*  Dragged 
from  their  assemblies,  they  returned ;  their  meeting-houses 
torn  down,  they  gathered  on  the  ruins.  Armed  men  dis 
persed  them,  and  they  came  together  again.  Their  enemies 
"  took  shovels  to  throw  rubbish  on  them,  and  they  stood 
close  together,  willing  to  be  buried  alive  witnessing  the 
Lord."  f  And  when  in  one  of  their  darkest  hours  their 
comrades  lay  languishing  in  prison,  the  rest  marched  in 
procession  to  Westminster  Hall  to  offer  themselves  to  Par 
liament  as  hostages  for  their  brethren. 

I  know  of  few  things  in  the  history  of  the  English  race 
more  noble  than  this  act.  No  poet  has  made  it  the  subject 
of  his  eulogy,  and  even  the  historians  of  civil  and  religious 
liberty  have  passed  it  by.  But  surely  never  did  the  groined 
arches  of  that  ancient  hall  look  down  upon  a  nobler  spec 
tacle.  They  had  seen  many  a  more  splendid  and  brilliant 
one,  but  none  more  honorable  than  this.  They  had  looked 
down  on  balls  and  banquets,  and  coronations  and  the  trial 
of  a  king,  but  never,  since  they  were  hewn  from  their  native 
oak,  did  they  behold  a  sight  more  honorable  to  human 
nature  than  that  of  these  humble  Quakers  grouped  below. 
They  had  rung  with  the  most  eloquent  voices  that  ever  spoke 

*  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  ii.  p.  345 ;  Fox's 
Journal,  p.  162. 

f  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  ii.  p.  355  ;  Barclay, 
356,  483,  484. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  261 

the  English  tongue,  but  never  heard  before  such  words  as 
these.  (Let  me  repeat  them  here  to-day,  for  among  those 
that  spoke  them  were  men  that  founded  Burlington) :  "  In 
Love  to  our  Brethren,"  they  say  to  Parliament,  "  that  lie 
in  Prisons  and  Houses  of  Correction  and  Dungeons,  and 
many  in  Fetters  and  Irons,  and  have  been  cruelly  beat  by 
the  cruel  Gaolers,  and  many  have  been  persecuted  to  Death 
and  have  died  in  Prisons,  and  many  lie  sick  and  weak  in 
Prison  and  on  Straw/7  we  "do  offer  up  our  Bodies  and 
Selves  to  you,  for  to  put  us  as  Lambs  into  the  same  Dun 
geons  and  Houses  of  Correction,  and  their  Straw  and  nasty 
Holes  and  Prisons,  and  do  stand  ready  a  Sacrifice  for  to  go 
into  their  Places,  that  they  may  go  forth  and  not  die  in 
Prison  as  many  of  the  Brethren  are  dead  already.  For  we 
are  willing  to  lay  down  our  Lives  for  our  Brethren  and  to 
take  their  Sufferings  upon  us  that  you  would  inflict  on 
them.  .  .  .  And  if  you  will  receive  our  Bodies,  which  we 
freely  tender  to  you,  for  our  Friends  that  are  now  in  Prison 
for  speaking  the  Truth  in  several  places;  for  not  paying 
Tithes;  for  meeting  together  in  the  Fear  of  God ;  for  not 
Swearing;  for  wearing  their  Hats;  for  being  accounted  as 
Vagrants;  for  visiting  Friends,  and  for  Things  of  a  like 
Nature.  We,  whose  Names  are  hereunto  subscribed,  being 
a  sufficient  Number,  are  waiting  in  Westminster-hall  for  an 
Answer  from  you  to  us,  to  answer  our  Tenders  and  to  mani 
fest  our  Love  to  our  Friends  and  to  stop  the  Wrath  and 
Judgment  from  coming  to  our  Enemies."* 

Well  done,  disciple  of  the  shoemaker  of  Nottingham ! 
No  prince  or  king  ever  spoke  braver  words  than  these! 
What  matter  if  your  Parliament  send  back  for  answer  sol- 

*  Vide  Preface  to  Joseph  Besse's  Sufferings  of  the  Quakers,  vol.  i. 
p.  iv. 


262  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

diers  with  pikes  and  muskets  to  drive  you  out  into  the 
street  ?  Go  forth  content !  What  if  your  brethren  lan 
guish  and  die  in  gaol?  You  shall  not  long  be  parted. 
What  if  the  times  be  troubled  and  nights  of  sorrow  follow 
days  of  suffering  ?  They  cannot  last  forever.  What  if  the 
heathen  rage  and  the  swords  of  the  wicked  be  drawn  against 
you  ?  The  peace  within  you  they  cannot  take  away.  The 
world  may  note  you  little  and  history  keep  no  record  of 
your  life.  Your  kindred  may  pass  you  by  in  silence  and 
your  name  be  unremembered  by  your  children.  No  man 
may  know  your  resting-place.  But  what  of  that  ?  You 
have  done  one  of  those  things  that  ennoble  humanity — and 
by  One,  at  least,  who  saw  it,  you  will  not  be  unrewarded 
nor  forgotten ! 

Such  was  the  condition  of  affairs  when  the  opportunity  of 
the  Quakers  arose  out  of  the  necessities  of  their  enemies. 
Between  the  Dutch  New  Netherlands  and  the  English  colony 
of  Virginia  lay  a  noble  river  draining  a  fertile  and  pleasant 
land.  Hudson  had  discovered  it  in  1609,  and  the  following 
year  the  dying  Lord  de  la  Warr  had  bequeathed  to  it  his 
name.  For  thirty  years  the  three  Protestant  nations  of 
Europe  had  contended  for  its  shores,  each  victorious  in  its 
turn,  until,  at  length,  the  dominion  of  the  Dutchman  and 
the  Swede  came  to  an  end  forever,  and  the  flag  of  England 
floated  in  triumph  over  their  few  and  feeble  settlements.* 

It  was  at  this  time,  in  the  year  1664,  that  the  Duke  of 
York,  afterward  James  II.,  eager  to  mend  his  fortunes, 
persuaded  King  Charles  II.  to  give  him  a  large  share  of 

*  I  cannot  but  regret  the  necessity  which  compelled  me  to  pass 
by  in  a  paragraph  the  forty  years  which  followed  the  expedition  of 
Captain  Mey.  Some  future  historian  of  Pennsylvania  will  find  them 
full  of  fascinating  materials.  Isaac  Mickle's  "  .Reminiscences  of  Old 
Gloucester"  is  well  worth  reading  in  this  connection. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  263 

the  newly-acquired  territory  in  America.  It  was  hardly 
yet  subdued,  but  Charles  carelessly  complied.  In  a  patent, 
the  date  of  which  reveals  the  duke's  haste  to  secure  the 
grant,  the  king  conveyed  to  his  brother  all  that  territory 
which  may  be  roughly  described  as  lying  between  Delaware 
Bay  and  the  Canadian  border.  Hardly  had  the  ink  become 
dry  upon  this  parchment  when  James  himself,  in  consider 
ation  of  "  a  competent  sum  of  money/'  sold  what  is  now 
known  as  New  Jersey  to  two  of  his  friends,  Sir  George 
Carteret  and  Lord  Berkeley.  England  was  now  full  of 
colonization  schemes.  The  rude  interruption  of  the  civil 
war  was  over,  and  men  began  to  remember  the  days  when 
Smith  and  Raleigh  were  wont  to  return  from  America  with 
glowing  descriptions  of  what  they  had  seen  in  that  mys 
terious  country.  A  sterner  age  had  followed,  and  few  now 
perhaps  cherished  the  golden  visions  which  had  led  those 
brilliant  adventurers  into  the  exploits  which  have  immor 
talized  their  names,  but  there  still  lived  in  the  Englishman 
of  the  seventeenth  century  the  love  of  adventure,  and  the 
desire  to  spread  the  dominion  of  the  Crown,  and  America 
lay  before  him  an  attractive  field.  The  failure  of  Sir  Ed 
mund  Ployden  to  carry  out  his  romantic  and  fantastic  plan 
of  building  up  a  power  called  New  Albion,  of  which  he 
assumed  in  advance  the  title  of  Earl  Palatine,*  taught  an 
unheeded  lesson,  and  dreams  of  future  empire  continued  to 
dazzle  many  an  English  mind.  But  years  passed  by  with 
out  result.  Carteret,  the  younger  of  the  new  proprietors, 
managed  to  plant  some  settlements  in  Eastern  Jersey,  where 
to  this  day  the  city  of  Elizabeth  perpetuates  the  name  of  his 

*  Vide  Mickle's  Reminiscences  of  Old  Gloucester,  p.  24.  Beau- 
champ  Plantagenet's  Description  of  New  Albion,  in  the  Philadelphia 
Library. 


264  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

accomplished  wife,  and  a  few  Englishmen  from  Connecticut 
found  a  precarious  foothold  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware, 
but  for  the  most  part  all  attempts  to  encourage  immigration 
ended  in  expensive  failure.  As  it  had  been  with  Massa 
chusetts  it  was  with  Pennsylvania  and  the  Jerseys.  The 
foot  of  the  adventurer  was  not  suifered  to  rest  in  peace  upon 
soil  destined  by  the  Almighty  for  a  nobler  purpose  than  to 
enrich  the  unworthy  or  mend  the  broken  fortunes  of  an 
English  nobleman.  The  fingers  which  had  grasped  so 
eagerly  the  choice  places  of  the  New  Continent  were  quickly 
to  be  loosened,  and  the  wilderness  kept  ready  as  a  place  of 
refuge  for  an  oppressed  and  persecuted  people. 

After  ten  years  of  thankless  efforts  and  unprofitable 
ownership,  and  too  old  to  hope  for  a  realization  of  his 
plans,  my  Lord  Berkeley  became  anxious  to  be  rid  of  his 
province,  and  offered  it  for  sale.  The  opportunity  was  a 
rare  one  for  the  Quakers.  To  America  they  had  naturally 
looked  as  a  place  to  which  they  might  escape  and  bear  with 
them  in  peace  their  peculiar  principles  and  creed.  In  that 
distant  country  they  might,  it  seemed  to  them,  worship  God 
according  to  their  consciences.  Three  thousand  miles  of 
sea  (ten  times  as  great  a  distance  then  as  now)  would  lie 
between  them  and  their  enemies,  and  in  the  wilderness,  at 
least,  with  trial  and  privation  would  dwell  peace. 

For  a  while,  indeed,  they  were  deterred  by  a  sentiment 
that  was  natural  to  men  of  English  blood.  Persecution, 
thought  some  of  them,  ought  not  to  be  avoided.  The 
trials,  the  sufferings,  the  dangers  to  which  they  were  ex 
posed  it  was  their  duty  to  meet,  and  not  to  shun.  Let  us 
endure  these  things  for  the  glory  of  the  truth,  and  not  try, 
like  cowards,  to  avoid  them.  Let  us  bear  this  burden  our 
selves,  nor  leave  it  for  others  to  take  up.  This  unwilling 
ness  to  flee  before  the  face  of  persecution  held  them  for 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  265 

some  time  resolute  and  firm.  But,  at  length,  another  sen 
timent  prevailed.  It  sprang  from  the  thought  that  others 
were  destined  to  come  after  them.  There  is  nothing  more 
remarkable  in  the  history  of  this  country  than  the  fact  that 
those  who  settled  it  seem  everywhere  alike  to  have  been 
moved  by  the  belief  that  they  acted,  not  for  themselves, 
but  for  posterity.  'Not  for  himself  alone  did  the  Pilgrim 
embark  upon  the  Mayflower :  not  for  himself  alone  did  the 
Puritan  seek  a  shelter  on  the  bleak  shores  of  Massachusetts : 
not  for  himself  only  did  Roger  Williams  gather  his  little 
colony  at  the  head  of  Narragansett  Bay ;  and  the  same 
faith  that  he  was  building  in  the  wilderness  a  place  of 
refuge  for  the  oppressed  forever  led  the  stern  Quaker  out 
of  England.  Not  for  us,  but  for  the  sake  of  them  that 
shall  come  after  us.  This  was  the  faith  that  sustained 
them  without  a  murmur  through  all  the  horrors  of  a  New 
England  winter ;  that  kept  their  courage  up  while  the  Con 
necticut  Valley  rang  with  the  war-whoop  of  the  Indian ; 
that  raised  their  fainting  spirits  beneath  the  scorching  rays 
of  a  Southern  sun ;  that  made  them  content  and  happy  in 
the  untrodden  forest  of  New  Jersey. 

"The  settlement  of  this  country/'  writes  one  who  wit 
nessed  it,  "  was  directed  by  an  impulse  on  the  spirits  of 
God's  people,  not  for  their  own  ease  and  tranquillity,  but 
rather  for  the  posterity  that  should  be  after  them/'* 

Proud  may  we  justly  be,  Americans,  of  those  who  laid 
the  foundations  of  our  happiness.  I  know  of  no  people 
who  can  point  to  a  purer  and  less  selfish  ancestry — of  no 
nation  that  looks  back  to  a  nobler  or  more  honorable  origin. 

There  were  many  reasons  why  our  forefathers,  when  at 


*  Thomas  Sharp's  Memoir  in  Newton  Monthly  Meeting  Records. 
Vide  Bowden's  History  of  Friends,  p.  16. 

18 


266  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

last  they  had  convinced  themselves  that  it  was  right  for 
them  to  emigrate,  should  have  turned  their  eyes  upon  New 
Jersey.  The  unrelenting  Puritan  had  long  ago  shut  in 
their  faces  the  doors  of  Massachusetts  Bay  and  Plymouth 
Colony.  New  York  had  already  been  appropriated  by  the 
Dutch,  and  the  followers  of  Fox  could  find  little  sympathy 
among  those  who  had  established  settlements  within  the 
wide  borders  of  the  Old  Dominion.  Besides,  George  Fox 
himself  had  travelled  across  New  Jersey  two  or  three  years 
before.  He  had  seen  the  beauty  of  the  South  River  and 
the  majestic  forests  that  lined  its  shores.  The  Swedes  and 
Dutch  upon  its  banks  were  few  in  number  and  of  a  peace 
ful  disposition,  and  the  Indians,  its  natives,  were  noted  for 
their  gentleness.  The  river  of  Delaware  was  universally 
described  as  a  "  goodly  and  noble  river" — the  soil  was  rich 
and  fertile,  the  "  air,"  as  was  soon  to  be  written,  was  "  very 
delicate,  pleasant,  and  wholesome,  the  heavens  serene,  rarely 
overcast,  bearing  mighty  resemblance  to  the  better  part  of 
France."*  Just  at  this  time  the  property  of  Lord  Berke 
ley  was  offered  for  sale.  The  wealthier  men  among  the 
Friends  saw  the  opportunity,  and  Edward  Byllynge  and 
John  Fen  wick  became  its  purchasers.  A  devoted  Friend, 
Byllynge  had  been  one  of  those  who  offered  themselves  as 
hostages  at  Westminster  in  1659.  He  had  suffered  like  all 
the  rest,  but  had  continued  to  be  thought  a  man  of  prop 
erty.  But  times  were  hard,  and  when  the  conveyance  came 
to  be  made  the  name  of  John  Fenwick,  as  trustee,  was 
substituted  for  that  of  Byllynge,  and  after  a  little  while  all 
the  interest  of  the  latter  was  given  up  for  the  benefit  of 
creditors  to  three  trustees,  Gawen  Lawrie,  Nicholas  Lucas, 

*  Gabriel  Thomas's  Description  of  Pennsylvania  and  West  Jersey, 
published  in  1698,  p.  7. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  9(57 

and  William  Penn.  Now  for  the  first  time  in  American 
history  appears  the  name  of  that  great  man  whom,  in  the 
words  of  Lord  Macaulay,  who  viewed  him  with  mistaken 
and  unfriendly  eye,  "  a  great  Commonwealth  regards  with 
a  reverence  similar  to  that  which  the  Athenians  felt  for 
Theseus  and  the  Romans  for  Quirinus."*  It  is  interesting 
to  remark,  as  one  reads  of  the  reluctance  with  which  he 
assumed  this  task,  how  directly  Penn's  connection  with  the 
settlement  of  Burlington  led  to  the  founding  of  Pennsyl 
vania, 

It  was  now  the  year  of  Grace  1675.  John  Fenwick,  a 
soldier  of  the  civil  war  and  now  a  Quaker  (whose  memory 
has  been  recently  preserved  by  the  pen  of  a  Jerseymanf), 
soon  set  sail  with  his  family  and  a  small  company  of 
Friends.  Entering  the  Capes,  after  a  prosperous  voyage, 
he  landed  on  the  eastern  shore  at  a  "  pleasant,  rich  spot," 
to  which,  in  memory  of  its  peaceful  aspect,  he  gave  the 
name  of  Salem — an  appellation  which  that  quiet  town  has 
continued  to  deserve  even  unto  this  day.  Two  years  of 
comparative  inaction  followed.  Troublesome  disputes  be 
tween  Fenwick  and  Byllynge,  which  it  required  all  the 
authority  and  address  of  Penn  to  settle,  threatened  destruc 
tion  to  the  colony.  But  at  length  these  came  to  an  end, 
and  the  settlement  began  in  earnest.  There  were  important 
things  to  be  done  at  the  beginning.  First,  the  province 
had  to  be  divided  by  agreement  with  the  owner  of  the 
other  half,  and  this  was  not  accomplished  until  1676.  A 
line  was  provided  to  be  drawn  northward  from  Egg  Har- 

*  Macaulay's  History  of  England,  vol.  i.  p.  394. 

f  Hon.  John  Clement,  of  Iladdonfield,  New  Jersey,  to  whom  I  am 
indebted  for  kind  suggestions  in  the  preparation  of  this  address.  A 
full  account  of  the  relations  of  Fenwick  and  Byllynge  may  be  found 
in  his  valuable  History  of  Fenwick's  Colony. 


268  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

bor  to  the  Delaware,  dividing  the  province  into  two.  The 
eastern  part  was  taken  by  Sir  George  Carteret ;  the  other  by 
the  trustees,  who  gave  it  the  name  of  West  New  Jersey. 
Penn  and  his  agents  next  divided  their  share  into  one  hun 
dred  parts,  of  which  they  assigned  ten  to  Fenwick  and 
ninety  to  the  creditors  of  Byllynge.  But  their  most  im 
portant  duty  was  to  frame  a  constitution  for  the  new  coun 
try.  This  was  no  easy  task.  None  of  these  men  were 
legislators.  Neither  by  birth  nor  election  had  they  en 
joyed  the  advantages  of  experience  in  the  legislative  bodies 
of  their  country.  They  were  not  generally  men  of  reading 
or  education  (with  the  exception  of  Penn),  nor  of  that 
training  which  is  usually  essential  to  true  statesmanship. 
Nor  in  those  days  had  the  making  of  free  constitutions 
been  a  frequent  task.  He  who  attempted  it  entered  an 
unknown  and  dangerous  country,  full  of  disappointments. 
Lucas  and  Lawrie  were  men  of  business  little  known ; 
Penn  was  a  youth  of  two-and-thirty,  and  among  all  their 
associates  there  were  few  who  had  knowledge  and  none 
who  had  experience  of  Statecraft,  But  they  were  animated 
by  the  truest  spirit  of  philanthropy,  by  the  sincerest  love 
of  liberty,  by  the  warmest  devotion  to  what  they  under 
stood  to  be  the  command  of  God.  And  they  were,  after 
all,  worthy  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a  free  and  humane 
government.  Independence  of  thought,  Freedom  of  per 
son,  Liberty  of  conscience :  these  were  the  things  they  all 
believed  in,  and  for  them  they  were  ready  to  make  any 
sacrifice.  For  liberty  they  had  suffered  each  and  all.  For 
it,  men  like  them  had  scorned  danger  and  gone  chanting 
into  battle.  For  the  sake  of  it  they  had  even  welcomed 
the  horrors  of  civil  war.  For  it  they  had  charged  their 
brethren  at  Naseby  and  ridden  rough-shod  over  their  kin 
dred  upon  Marston  Moor.  And  now  they  were  ready,  if 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  269 

the  clay  were  lost  at  home,  to  abandon  all  and  seek  it  be 
yond  the  sea.  On  liberal  principles,  then,  did  they  natur 
ally  determine  to  build  up  their  new  government  in  the 
wilderness,  where,  a  century  afterward,  their  children,  for 
whom  they  were  making  so  many  sacrifices,  were  destined 
to  fight  over  again  the  same  battle  with  an  equal  courage 
and  devotion.  Little  did  they  dream — those  stern  yet 
gentle  men  of  peace — when  they  gave  to  their  infant 
Commonwealth  freedom  from  all  taxation  except  what  its 
own  Assemblies  should  impose,  that  a  hundred  years  later 
England  would  rise  up,  sword  in  hand,  to  take  it  back ; 
that  for  the  sake  of  a  principle,  which  they  never  thought 
to  call  in  question,  the  little  town  which  they  were  about 
to  found  would  one  day  tremble  at  the  roar  of  contending 
cannon,  and  the  banks  of  Delaware  be  stained  with  Eng 
lish  blood  !  Could  they  have  been  permitted  to  foresee,  the 
struggle  that  was  yet  to  come  they  could  not  more  wnsely 
have  prepared  posterity  to  meet  it.  First,  they  created  an 
Executive  and  Legislative  power  ;  the  former  to  be  chosen 
by  the  latter,  the  Assembly  by  the  people,  voting  to  be  by 
ballot,  and  every  man  capable  to  choose  and  to  be  chosen. 
Each  member  of  the  Assembly  they  agreed  "hath  liberty 
of  speech,"  and  shall  receive  for  wages  one  shilling  a  day, 
"  that  thereby  he  may  be  known  as  the  servant  of  the  peo 
ple."  No  man  shall  be  imprisoned  for  debt  nor,*  without 
the  verdict  of  a  jury,  deprived  of  life,  liberty  or  estate, 
"  and  all  and  every  person  in  the  province  shall,  by  the 
help  of  the  Lord  arid  these  fundamentals,  be  free  from  op 
pression  and  slavery."  The  Indian  was  to  be  protected  in 
his  rights  and  the  orphan  brought  up  by  the  State.  Re 
ligious  freedom  in  its  broadest  sense  was  to  be  secured,  and 
no  one  "  in  the  least  punished  or  hurt,  in  person,  estate  or 
privilege,  for  the  sake  of  his  opinion,  judgment,  faith,  or 


270  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

worship  toward  God  in  matters  of  religion ;  for  no  man  nor 
number  of  men  upon  earth  have  power  to  rule  over  men's 
consciences."*  "  Such,"  writes  one  who,  though  an  alien 
to  their  blood  and  of  an  hostile  creed,  could  do  them  justice, 
"is  an  outline  of  the  composition  which  forms  the  first 
essay  of  Quaker  legislation,  and  entitles  its  authors  to  no 
mean  share  in  the  honor  of  planting  civil  and  religious 
liberty  in  America."f  Happy  would  it  have  been  for 
the  children  of  those  simple-minded  men  had  they  never 
departed  from  ideas  so  true,  so  wise,  and  so  humane ! 

The  authors  of  this  document,  adopted  and  signed  on  the 
3d  of  March,  1676,  seem  to  have  seen  the  goodness  of  their 
handiwork.  "  There,"  they  cry  in  words  which  are  at  once 
a  prophesy  and  a  confession  of  faith,  "  we  lay  a  foundation 
for  after-ages  to  understand  their  liberty,  as  men  and 
Christians,  that  they  may  not  be  brought  in  bondage  but 
by  their  own  consent.  For  we  put  the  power  in  the  people"% 

So  much,  then,  for  this  government  on  paper.  Where 
now  are  the  men  to  put  it  into  execution  ?  They  come 
from  two  different  parts  of  England.  Among  the  cred 
itors  of  Byllynge  were  five  Friends  who  dwelt  in  Yorkshire. 
Persecutions  had  been  very  severe  in  that  county,  and  York 
Castle  at  one  time  contained  a  large  number  of  prominent 
Friends.§  Among  these  latter  were  five  heads  of  families 

*  Smith  prints  this  remarkable  document  in  full  in  the  appendix 
to  his  History  of  New  Jersey,  p.  512. 

f  History  of  the  United  States,  by  James  Grahame,  LL.D.,  vol.  i. 
p.  475. 

J  Letter  of  Penn  and  the  others  to  Hartshorne,  London,  6th  mo. 
26,  1676 ;  Smith's  History  of  New  Jersey,  p.  80. 

\  William  Clayton,  Richard  Hancock,  John  Ellis,  Richard  Guy, 
and  Richard  Woodmancy  were  in  York  Castle  at  different  times 
between  1660  and  1677 ;  Christopher  Wetherill  in  Beverley  Gaol  in 
1660.  Vide  Besse,  passim. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  271 

who  were  glad  to  join  the  creditors  of  Byllynge  in  their 
new  plan  for  settling  West  Jersey,  and  a  company  was 
speedily  formed  among  them,  which  was  known  as  the 
Yorkshire  Company.  It  was  thus  that  the  names  of  Clay 
ton,  Ellis,  Hancock,  Helmsley,  Stacy,  and  Wetherill  first 
came  to  be  transported  into  Jersey.  Meantime  another 
company  was  forming  in  the  vicinity  of  London.  Men 
came  from  different  parts  of  England  to  join  its  ranks; 
William  Peachy,  fre*h  from  his  trial  at  Bristol  and  under 
sentence  of  banishment  as  a  convict  for  attending  "  meet 
ings  ;"  John  Kinsey,  of  Hadham  in  Hertfordshire,  himself 
a  prisoner  a  few  years  before,  and  marked  among  these 
settlers  of  Burlington  as  the  first  to  die;  John  Cripps, 
twelve  days  in  a  cell  in  Newgate  for  "  keeping  his  hat  on 
in  a  bold,  irreverent  manner"  when  the  Lord  Mayor  passed 
by  into  Guildhall ;  Thomas  Ollive,  familiar  with  the  inside 
of  Northampton  Gaol ;  John  Woolston,  his  companion  in 
that  prison,  and  Dr.  Daniel  Wills,  tried  for  banishment  for 
a  third  offence,  and  thrice  in  prison  for  holding  meetings  in 
his  house.*  The  last  three  were  all  men  of  note,  and  their 
joining  the  London  Company  had  great  influence  on  its 
history.  In  the  little  town  of  Wellingborough,  the  home 
of  Ollive,  and  near  which  the  others  dwelt,  there  was  a 
monthly  meeting.  Here  Dewsbury,  in  1654,  had  converted 
many  to  the  Truth,  and  here  he  had  been  mobbed  and 
thrown  in  gaol.  By  the  spring  of  1677  his  disciples  had 
become  numerous  in  Northamptonshire,  and  nowhere,  per- 


*  Vide  Besse's  Sufferings,  where  these  facts  are  all  set  forth  with 
painful  particularity.  The  names  of  nearly  all  the  early  settlers  of 
Burlington  can  be  found  in  that  record  of  persecution.  I  doubt  if 
there  has  ever  been  another  town  of  which  so  many  of  its  citizens 
had  been  in  gaol.  Certainly  no  other  can  speak  of  the  matter  with 
so  much  honest  pride. 


272  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

haps,  had  the  propriety  of  going  to  America  been  more 
earnestly  discussed.  "  Many  who  were  valuable,"  says  an 
old  account,  "doubting,  lest  it  should  be  deemed  flying 
from  persecution."  In  the  midst  of  this  discussion,  he, 
who  had  converted  so  many  in  the  place  twelve  years  before, 
gathered  the  faithful  about  him  and  bade  them  go.  "  The 
Lord,"  he  said,  "is  about  to  plant  the  wilderness  of  America 
with  a  choice  vine  of  noble  seed,  which  shall  grow  and 
flourish."  Let  His  servants  depart  thither  and  they  shall 
do  well.  "I  see  them,  I  see  them,  under  His  blessing, 
arising  into  a  prosperous  and  happy  state.'7*  And  so  it 
came  about  that  many  of  that  little  band  followed  the  lead 
of  Thomas  Ollive  and  Dr.  Daniel  Wills,  and  turned  their 
faces  toward  London. 

The  preparations  are  now  made  and  the  time  for  departure 
is  at  hand.  The  two  companies  have  appointed  commis 
sioners  to  govern  them — Joseph  Helmsley,  Robert  Stacy, 
William  Emley,  and  Thomas  Foulke,  for  the  Yorkshire 
people ;  Thomas  Ollive,  Daniel  Wills,  John  Penford,  and 
Benjamin  Scott,  for  the  London  purchasers.  They  have 
secured  a  staunch  ship,  under  the  command  of  an  expe 
rienced  seaman,  and  she  is  now  lying  ready  in  the  Thames. 
With  what  feelings  does  this  band  of  self-devoted  exiles  go 
on  board  !  Does  any  one  of  the  half  million  souls  in  the 
great  metropolis  notice  the  little  company  of  English  yeo 
men,  as,  laden  with  their  scanty  store  of  household  stuff' 
and  leading  their  wives  and  children  by  the  hand,  they 
shake  the  dust  of  England  from  their  feet  and  clamber  on 
the  deck  ?  Does  any  one  foresee,  as  he  looks  with  pride  on 


*  Life  of  William  Dewsbury ;  Account  of  James  and  William 
Brown  in  Nottingham,  Pennsylvania,  Monthly  Meeting  Records. 
Vide  also  The  Friend,  vol.  23,  pp.  443,  451. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  273 

the  forest  of  masts  and  yard-arms  that  stretches  from  Lon 
don  Tower  to  London  Bridge,  that  of  all  the  ships  that 
move  to  and  fro  beneath  him,  or  lie  at  anchor  in  the 
crowded  Thames,  but  one  shall  be  remembered?  It  is  not 
that  big  merchantman,  fast  to  yonder  wharf,  discharging 
the  rich  cargo  she  has  just  brought  from  the  Indies ;  nor 
this  gallant  vessel  that,  as  she  swings  with  the  tide,  turns 
to  him  a  hull  scarred  with  many  a  Dutch  or  Spanish 
broadside;  nor  yet  the  stately  ship  that,  at  this  moment, 
comes  slowly  up,  under  full  sail,  from  Gravesend.  Long 
after  these  and  they  that  sailed  them  shall  have  been  for 
gotten,  the  happy  citizens  of  a  free  commonwealth  in  a 
distant  land  shall  speak  with  affectionate  remembrance  of 
the  good  ship  "Kent"  and  "Master  Godfrey  Marlow!" 
Obscure  and  unnoticed  and,  perhaps  on  that  account  undis 
turbed,  all  are  at  last  on  board.  They  have  taken  leave  of 
their  country ;  it  remains  only  to  say  farewell  to  their  King. 
It  is  a  pleasant  day  in  the  opening  summer,  and  London  is 
full  of  gayety.  The  banquets  at  Whitehall  have  never 
been  more  brilliant,  and  the  King,  in  spite  of  French 
victories  and  Popish  plots  and  Quaker  persecutions,  is  as 
gay  as  ever.  What  cares  good-natured  Charles,  or  my  lady 
of  Cleveland,  or  his  Lordship  of  Buckingham  if  the  public 
mind  be  full  of  discontent  and  the  public  coffers  empty  and 
the  prestige  of  England  be  threatened  both  on  sea  and 
land  ?  The  weather  is  fine,  the  French  gold  still  holds 
out,  and  the  charms  of  Her  Grace  of  Portsmouth  are  as 
fresh  as  ever.  The  bright  sun  and  the  pleasant  air  tempt 
His  Majesty  upon  the  water  and  he  passes  the  afternoon 
floating  in  his  barge.  The  Thames  is  full  of  shipping,  for 
at  this  time  London  has  no  rival  in  commerce  but  Amster 
dam,  and  the  King  amuses  himself  watching  the  vessels  as 
they  come  to  and  fro.  Suddenly  the  barge  approaches  a 


274  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

ship  evidently  about  to  sail.  Something  attracts  the  King, 
and  draws  him  near.  A  group  of  men  and  women  are  on 
the  deck,  plain  in  appearance,  sombre  in  dress,  quiet  in 
demeanor.  They  are  of  the  yeoman  class  chiefly,  and  the 
gay  courtiers  wonder  what  attracts  the  attention  of  the 
King.  The  two  strangely  different  vessels  come  together, 
and  for  a  moment  those  widely  separated  companies  are  face 
to  face.  Charles,  with  that  pleasant  voice  that  could  heal 
with  a  friendly  phrase  the  wounds  inflicted  by  a  lifetime  of 
ingratitude,  inquires  who  they  are.  "Quakers,  bound  to 
America !"  is  the  reply.  There  is  a  pause  for  an  instant, 
and  then  the  King,  with  a  royal  gesture,  flings  them  his 
blessing,  and  Charles  II.  and  his  Quaker  subjects  have 
parted  forever.*  Each  to  his  fate  according  to  his  manner. 
"  Now,"  said  old  Socrates  to  his  weeping  friends,  "  it  is  time 
to  part,  you  to  life  and  I  to  death — which  of  the  two  things 
is  the  better  is  known  only  unto  God."f  And  now  the 
wind  is  fair  and  the  tide  is  full  and  the  steeples  of  London 
are  sinking  in  the  west.  Farewell,  broad  fields  of  Norfolk 
and  pleasant  Kentish  woods!  Farewell,  ye  Yorkshire 
moors  and  sloping  Sussex  downs !  Farewell,  old  mother 
England !  Our  feet  shall  never  tread  upon  your  shores 
again.  Our  eyes  shall  never  more  behold  your  face ;  but 
from  our  loins  a  greater  Britain  shall  arise  to  bless  a  con 
tinent  with  English  law  and  English  liberty  and  English 
speech ! 

On  the  6th  of  August  (old  style),  1677,  there  is  excite 
ment  on  the  Kent.  The  voyage  has  been  fair,  but  the 

*  Vide  Smith's  History  of  New  Jersey,  p.  93  :  "  King  Charles  the 
Second  in  his  barge,  pleasuring  on  the  Thames,  came  alongside, 
seeing  a  great  many  passengers,  and,  informed  whence  they  were 
bound,  asked  if  they  were  all  Quakers,  and  gave  them  his  blessing." 

f  Plato's  Apologia,  cap.  xxxiii. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  275 

ocean  is  wide  and  full  of  perils,  and  all  are  longing  for  the 
land.  Suddenly  a  faint  line  appears  on  the  horizon.  Slowly 
it  rises  from  the  sea  until  at  last  the  straining  eyes  of  the 
Kent's  passengers  can  make  out  land.  It  is  a  low,  sandy 
beach  projecting  far  into  the  sea.  By  and  by  behind  it 
appears  the  faint  blue  of  distant  hills,  and  at  last  the  clear 
outlines  of  a  well-wooded  shore.  The  old  ship  turns  to  the. 
northwest  and  enters  the  mouth  of  a  beautiful  bay.  This 
is  the  first  view  of  the  Western  World — the  harbor  of  New 
York.  The  object  the  emigrants  have  in  view  in  coming 
here  is  to  wait  upon  Sir  Edmund  Andros,  the  Duke  of 
York's  lately  appointed  governor  of  his.  territory.*  Ac 
cordingly  the  commissioners  go  on  shore.  Andros  receives 
them  coldly.  They  inform  him  of  their  purpose  to  settle 
on  the  Delaware.  He  feigns  an  ignorance  of  their  author 
ity.  They  remind  him  of  the  law,  and  repeat  how  the  land 
in  West  Jersey  was  granted  by  the  King  to  his  brother,  by 
the  Duke  to  Carteret  and  Berkeley,  and  by  them  to  their 
grantors.  It  is  of  no  use.  "Show  me  a  line  from  the 
Duke  himself,"  says  Andros.  They  have  neglected  this 
precaution.  Upon  which  the  governor  forbids  them  to 
proceed,  and  when  remonstrated  with,  touches  his  sword 
significantly.  Here  is  a  new  and  unexpected  trouble,  and 
it  is  no  comfort  to  learn  that  John  Fenwick  is  at  the 
moment  a  prisoner  in  New  York  for  attempting  his  settle 
ment  at  Salem  without  the  Duke's  authority.  Suddenly 
their  perplexity  is  unexpectedly  relieved.  If  they  will  take 
commissions  from  him  Sir  Edmund  will  allow  them  to  set 
sail,  but  they  must  promise  to  write  to  England  and  abide 
by  the  result.  Anxious  to  escape  from  the  dilemma  they 
accept  the  proposal ;  Fenwick  is  released  at  the  same  time. 


*  Smith's  History  of  New  Jersey,  p.  93. 


276  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

and  they  set  sail  for  the  Delaware.  On  the  1 6th  day  of 
August — about  the  26th  according  to  our  style — they  reach 
the  site  of  New  Castle,  and  presently — two  hundred  arid 
thirty  in  number — land  at  the  mouth  of  Raccoon  Creek.* 
The  few  settlements  of  the  Dutch  and  Swedes  have  hardly 
changed  the  original  appearance  of  the  country,  and  they 
find  themselves  on  the  borders  of  a  wilderness.  The  Swedes 
have  a  few  houses  at  the  landing-place,  and  in  these  and  in 
tents  and  caves  our  new-comers  take  temporary  lodging.  It 
is  a  change  from  the  snug  homes  to  which  they  have  been 
accustomed,  and  the  fare  they  find  is  rough,  but  there  is  no 
murmuring  among  them.  "I  never  heard  them  say/7 
wrote  one  of  their  number,  who  had  herself  exchanged  a 
pleasant  home  in  England  for  a  cave  —  "I  never  heard 
them  say  '  I  would  I  had  never  come/  which  it  is  worth 
observing,  considering  how  plentifully  they  had  lived  in 
England."!  But  they  were  not  given  to  complaining,  and 


*  Smith's  History,  p.  93. 

f  Barber  and  Howe's  Historical  Collection,  p.  90.  "My  friend 
William  John  Potts,  Esq.,  of  Camden,  New  Jersey,  an  indefatigable 
antiquary,  whose  acquaintance  with  early  history  has  been  of  the 
greatest  assistance  to  me,  writes  :  '  Some  of  them  were  obliged  to  live 
in  caves,  owing  to  the  scarcity  of  houses.  Similar  instances  occurred 
in  the  first  settlement  of  Philadelphia.  I  have  the  honor  to  descend 
from  a  cave-dweller  myself.  The  most  noted  instance  of  this  I  think 
you  will  find  in  Barber  and  Howe,  under  Columbus,  where  it  is  men 
tioned  that  in  that  part  of  Burlington  County  Thomas  Scattergood, 
whose  benevolent  name  still  flourishes  among  us,  brought  up  nine 
children  in  a  cave.'  Like  Mr.  Potts,  I  can  count  a  cave-dweller 
among  my  ancestors.  One  of  them  sailed  up  Dock  Creek,  now  Dock 
Street,  and  landing,  lived  in  a  cave  below  Second  Street  while  his 
house  was  building.  No  less  a  person  than  Francis  Daniel  Pastorius 
lived  in  a  cave  in  October,  1683.  These  caves  were  excavations  in 
the  banks,  roofed  and  faced  with  logs  overlaid  with  sod  or  bark,  or 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  TURLINGTON.  277 

moreover  the  autumn  is  at  hand.  "Without  delay  the  com 
missioners  set  out  to  examine  the  country  and  settle  the 
terms  of  purchase  with  the  Indians.  Accompanied  by 
Swedish  interpreters  they  buy  three  tracts — from  the  As- 
sanpink  to  the  liancocas,  from  Rancocas  to  Timber  Creek, 
and  from  Timber  Creek  to  Old  Man's  Creek.*  The  York 
shire  purchasers  choose  the  former  as  their  share;  the 
London  decide  to  settle  at  Arwaumus,  near  the  present 
Gloucester;  and  Daniel  Wills  orders  timber  to  be  felled 
and  grass  to  be  cut  in  preparation  for  the  winter. 

But  a  second  thought  prevails.  "Why  should  we  sepa 
rate?  We  have  passed  through  many  perils  together,  we 
are  few  in  number,  the  forests  are  thick  and  full  of  savages; 
let  us  build  a  town  in  company.  It  is  at  once  agreed  upon. 
Where  shall  it  be?  Old  Man's  Creek  is  too  near  John 
Fenwick's  colony ;  Assanpink  is  too  far ;  the  mouth  of  the 
Rancocas  is  a  marsh.  None  of  these  points  will  do.  About 
six  miles  above  the  last-named  creek,  within  the  limits  of 
the  Yorkshire  tenth,  there  are  two  islands.  One,  called 
"  Matiniconk,"  lies  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  which  here 
turns  suddenly  to  the  south,  and  forms  a  little  bay.  The 
other  lies  close  against  the  Jersey  shore,  from  which  it  is 
separated  only  by  a  narrow  creek  where  the  tide  ebbs  and 
flows,  and  is  known  as  "  Jegou's  Island/7  It  has  taken 
this  name  not  from  an  Indian  chief,  as  is  at  first  supposed, 
but  from  a  Frenchman  who  lately  lived  at  "  Water-Lily 
Point."f  On  this  neck  of  land  between  the  Asiskonk 


plastered  with  clay." — Vide  Watson's  Annals  of  Philadelphia,  vol.  i. 
p.  171. 

*  The  list  of  articles  paid  for  the  land  can  be  found  in  Smith's 
History  of  New  Jersey,  p.  95,  note. 

f  In  an  unpublished  lecture  delivered  in  1870,  the  Rev.  William 
Allen  Johnson,  formerly  rector  of  St.  Mary's,  has  solved  these  two 


278  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

Creek  and  the  Delaware  River,  opposite  Matiniconk,  three 
Dutchmen  settled  long  before  the  surrender  to  the  English. 
Their  rights  were  recognized  by  Governor  Carteret  in  1666, 
and  soon  afterward  sold  to  Peter  Jegou,  who,  about  1668, 
armed  with  a  license  from  the  same  authority,  built  on  the 
point,  hard  by  the  water-side,  a  log  house  after  the  Swedish 
fashion.*  It  was  the  only  tavern  in  this  part  of  the  country. 
And  it  was  well  placed,  for  at  this  point  the  narrow  foot 
path  which  leads  through  the  woods  from  the  banks  of  the 
North  River  comes  out  upon  the  Delaware,  and  those  who 
journey  from  Manhattan  toward  Virginia,  must  cross  the 
latter  river  at  this  point.  This  is  the  place  which  Gov 
ernor  Lovelace  meant  when  in  expectation  of  a  journey 
thither  some  years  ago,  he  directed  one  of  his  servants  to 
"go  with  the  horse  allotted  by  the  captain,  as  speedily  as 
you  can,  to  Navesink,  and  thence  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Jegoe, 
right  against  Matiniconk  Island,  on  Delaware  River,  where 
there  are  persons  ready  to  receive  you."f  But  the  journey 
was  not  undertaken,  for  somehow  or  other  Jegou  became 
an  object  of  hatred  to  the  Indians,  and  recently  (in  1670) 
they  have  plundered  him  and  driven  him  away.  His  house 

questions,  which  so  long  puzzled  the  local  antiquary :  "  Chygoe," 
he  says,  is  a  misspelling  of  the  name  of  Jegou,  and  a  Lazy"  or 
"Leazy"  Point — which  he  has  found  spelled  in  five  different  ways 
— a  corruption  of  the  Dutch  word  Lisch,  Pond-  or  Water-Lily.  I 
have  no  doubt  of  the  correctness  of  this  simple  explanation.  Water- 
Lily  Point  would  not  be  an  inappropriate  name  for  the  place  to 
day.  Mr.  Johnson's  lecture  was  the  result  of  much  labor  and 
careful  examination.  The  credit  of  settling  these  points  belongs 
entirely  to  him. 

*  Record  of  Upland  Court,  9th  mo.  25,  1679  5  Memoirs  of  Histori 
cal  Society  of  Pennsylvania,  vol.  vii.  p.  140. 

f  For  this  I  am  indebted  to  the  discoveries  among  the  Records  at 
Albany  of  the  Rev.  W.  A.  Johnson. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  279 

was  empty  and  deserted  five  years  ago,  as  is  mentioned  by 
a  very  noted  traveller.  After  a  day's  journey  of  fifty  miles 
without  seeing  man  or  woman,  house  or  dwelling-place,  he 
says,  "  at  night,  finding  an  old  house  which  the  Indians  had 
forced  the  people  to  leave,  we  made  a  fire  and  lay  there  at 
the  head  of  Delaware  Bay.  The  next  day  we  swam  our 
horses  over  the  river,  about  a  mile,  twice,  first  to  an  island 
called  Upper  Dinidock,  and  then  to  the  mainland,  having 
hired  Indians  to  help  us  over  in  their  canoes."  This  is 
especially  interesting,  for  the  name  of  that  traveller  was 
George  Fox.* 

"  Matiniconk"  lies  too  far  from  the  mainland,  but  Jegou's 
Island  is  a  very  fit  place  for  a  town.  It  is  about  a  mile 
long  and  half  as  wide.  It  lies,  as  I  have  said,  on  the  only 
path  between  the  North  River  and  the  South,  and  the  chan 
nel  in  front  of  it  is  deep  enough  for  ships  of  large  burden. 
Its  soil  is  rich,  its  meadows  rank  with  grass,  its  trees  tall 
and  luxuriant,  and  its  green  and  sloping  bank  destined  to 
be  always  beautiful.  The  decision  in  its  favor  is  soon  made, 
and  the  emigrants,  embarking  in  small  boats,  ascend  the 
Delaware. 

Tinakonk,  the  residence  of  the  ancient  Swedish  Gover 
nors  ;  Wickakoe,  a  small  settlement  of  that  people,  close  to 
the  high  bluff  called  "  Coaquannock,"  "  a  splendid  site  for  a 
town ;"  Takona,  an  ancient  Indian  town,  and  the  mouth  of 
the  Rancocas,  or  "  Northampton  River,"  are  passed  in  turn. 
It  is  already  late  in  October,  and  the  wild  landscape  lies 
bathed  in  the  mellow  glory  of  the  Indian  summer.  Beneath 
a  sky  more  cloudless  than  English  eyes  have  been  wont  to 
see,  waves  the  primeval  forest  clad  in  the  rainbow  garments 
of  the  Fall.  No  sound  breaks  the  stillness  save  the  plash 

*  Fox's  Journal,  7th  mo.  10,  1672 


280  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

of  the  oars  in  the  water  or  the  whistling  of  the  wings  of  the 
wild-fowl  that  rise  in  countless  numbers  from  the  marshes. 
The  air  is  full  of  the  perfume  of  grapes,  that  hang  in 
clusters  on  the  banks  and  climb  from  tree  to  tree,  and  the 
sturgeons  leap  before  the  advancing  prow.  The  startled 
deer  stands  motionless  upon  the  beach ;  and  hidden  in  the 
tangled  thickets  the  Indian  gazes  in  silent  wonder  at 
the  pale-faced  strangers  who  have  come  to  take  his  place 
in  the  land  of  his  fathers.  Presently  the  river  seems 
suddenly  to  come  to  a  stop.  On  the  left  is  a  gravel  beach. 
Intthe  distance  in  front,  is  an  island,  with  a  steep  red  bank 
washed  by  the  rushing  stream  and  pierced  with  swallows' 
holes.  To  the  right,  a  bit  of  marsh,  the  mouth  of  a 
silvery  creek,  a  meadow  sloping  to  the  shore,  and  then 
a  high  bank  lined  with  mulberries  and  sycamores  and 
unutterably  green.  For  the  first  time,  and  after  so  many 
days,  the  eyes  of  its  founders  have  rested  upon  Burling 
ton! 

Among  them  was  a  youth  of  one-and-twenty.  The  first 
of  his  race  to  be  born  in  the  Quaker  faith,  he  had  grown 
up  amid  persecution  and  been  familiar  with  suffering  from 
his  boyhood.  A  child  of  tender  years  he  had,  wonderingly, 
followed  his  family,  driven  from  their  old  home  for  con 
science'  sake,  and  among  his  earliest  recollections  was  the 
admonition  of  his  dying  father  to  seek  a  refuge  beyond  the 
sea.  Beside  him  was  the  English  maiden  who,  in  a  short 
time,  in  the  primitive  meeting-house  made  of  a  sail  taken 
from  the  Kent,  was  to  become  his  wife.  Little  that  youth 
ful  pair  imagined,  as  they  gazed  for  the  first  time  on  Jegou's 
Island,  that  at  the  end  of  two  centuries,  one  of  their  name 
and  lineage,  looking  back  to  them  over  the  graves  of  five 
generations  of  their  children,  would  stand  here  in  old  Bur 
lington  to-day,  and  lift  his  voice  in  commemoration  of  an 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  281 

event  in  which  they  were  then  taking  an  humble  but  honor 
able  part  !* 

Among  those  who  landed  on  the  bank  at  Burlington  on 
that  autumn  day  was  Kichard  Noble,  a  surveyor.  He  had 
come  with  John  Fen  wick  two  years  before,  and  his  profes 
sion  had  naturally  made  him  familiar  with  the  country.  To 
him  was  at  once  committed  the  duty  of  laying  out  the  town 
— a  labor  in  which  William  Matlack  and  others  of  the 
young  men  assisted. f  A  broad  and  imposing  main  street 
was  opened  through  the  forest,  running  at  right  angles  to 
the  river,  southward  into  the  country.  It  is  probable  that 
it  did  not  at  first  extend  very  far  past  the  place  at  which 
wre  are  gathered  now.  Another,  crossing  it,  ran  lengthwise 
through  the  middle  of  the  island,  and  a  third  was  opened 
on  the  bank.  The  town  thus  laid  out  was  divided  into 
twenty  properties — ten  in  the  eastern  part  for  the  Yorkshire 
men,  and  ten  in  the  western  for  the  London  proprietors. 
All  hands  went  at  once  to  work  to  prepare  for  the  winter. 
Marshall,  a  carpenter,  directed  the  building,  and  the  forests 
began  to  resound  with  the  blows  of  his  axe.  A  clearing 


*  James  Browne,  the  fourth  son  of  Richard  and  Mary  Browne,  of 
Sywell,  in  Northamptonshire,  was  born  on  the  27th  of  3d  month, 
1656.  His  father,  whom  William  Dewsbury  had  converted  in  1654-5, 
died  in  1662,  before  which  time  the  family  had  removed  to  Pudding- 
ton,  in  Bedfordshire.  James  remained  at  Burlington  but  a  short 
time,  settling  in  1678  at  Chichester  or  Markus  Hook,  in  Pennsyl 
vania.  On  the  8th  of  the  6th  month,  1679,  he  married,  at  Burling 
ton,  Honour,  the  daughter  of  William  Clayton  (one  of  the  Yorkshire 
purchasers  and  a  passenger  with  his  family  in  the  Kent).  He  lived 
on  his  place,  called  "  Podington,"  on  Chichester  Creek,  until  1705, 
when  he  gave  it  to  his  son  William  and  removed  "  into  the  wilder 
ness."  He  died  at  Nottingham,  Pennsylvania,  in  1716. 

f  AVilliam  Matlack' s  affidavit,  stating  these  facts,  is  to  be  found 
in  Book  A,  in  the  Surveyor-General's  office  in  Burlington. 

19 


282  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

was  made  on  the  south  side  of  the  main  street,  near  Broad, 
and  a  tent  pitched  there  as  a  temporary  meeting-house.  In 
a  short  time  the  settlement  began  to  have  the  appearance  of 
a  town,  and,  when  worthy  of  a  name,  in  memory  of  a  vil 
lage  in  old  Yorkshire,  was  christened  "  Burlington."*  The 
dwellings  were  at  first  caves,  dug  in  the  banks  and  faced 
with  boards,  or  shanties  of  the  most  primitive  description. 
They  were  not  built  of  logs,  as  is  popularly  believed.  It 
is  to  the  Swede  alone  that  we  owe  the  "  block-house"  of 
our  early  Indian  wars  and  the  "  log  cabin"  of  political  cam 
paigns.  Two  Dutch  travellers  who  saw  Burlington  when 
it  was  two  years  old,  say  on  this  point  that  "  the  English 
and  many  others  have  houses  made  of  nothing  but  clap 
boards,  as  they  call  them  here.  They  make  a  wooden 
frame,  as  in  Westphalia  and  at  Altona,  but  not  so  strong, 
then  split  boards  of  clapwood  like  coopers'  staves,  though 
unbent,  so  that  the  thickest  end  is  about  a  little  finger  thick, 
and  the  other  is  made  sharp  like  the  end  of  a  knife.  They 
are  about  five  or  six  feet  long,  and  are  nailed  on  with  the 
ends  lapping  over  each  other.  .  .  .  When  it  is  cold  and 
windy  the  best  people  plaster  them  with  clay."f  From 
these  details  we  can  imagine  the  homes  of  our  first  settlers, 
"  many  of  whom,"  says  one  of  them,  "  had  been  men  of 
good  estate."  That  they  remembered  their  English  homes 

*  Smith  says  it  was  first  called  New  Beverley.  and  next,  Bridling- 
ton,  and  by  the  latter  name  it  appears  on  Holme's  Map,  dated  1682. 
I  find,  however,  that  the  earliest  letters  written  from  the  place  (sev 
eral  within  a  week  or  two  of  the  beginning  of  the  town)  are  dated 
at  "  Burlington."  Bridlington  and  Burlington  are  the  same  name, 
and  the  latter  is  a  very  old  form  of  the  word.  Richard  Boyle  was 
created  Earl  of  Burlington  in  1663. 

f  Journal  of  Dankers  and  Sluyter  in  1679,  published  by  Long 
Island  Historical  Society,  vol.  i.  pp.  173-175. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  283 

with  fond  affection  is  proved  in  many  ways.  Wills  gave 
to  one  portion  of  the  neighborhood  the  name  of  his  native 
"  Northampton,"  which  it  bears  to-day,  and  the  township 
of  "  Willingborough,"  where  many  of  you  dwell,  recalls  the 
home  of  Ollive.  "  York"  Street  is  close  at  hand,  though 
the  bridge  that  bore  that  name  has  disappeared ;  and  what 
boy  is  there  in  Burlington  to-day  that  has  not  thrown  a 
line  from  "  London"  bridge  ?  "  Oh,  remember  us,"  they 
write  to  their  friends  in  England,  "  for  we  cannot  forget 
you ;  many  waters  cannot  quench  our  love  nor  distance 
wear  out  the  deep  remembrance.  .  .  .  Though  the  Lord 
hath  been  pleased  to  remove  us  far  away  from  you,  as  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  yet  are  we  present  with  you.  Your 
exercises  are  ours ;  our  hearts  are  dissolved  in  the  remem 
brance  of  you." 

But  though  their  thoughts  turned  fondly  to  England  and 
their  brethren,  they  did  not  repine.  They  found  the  coun 
try  good ;  "  so  good,"  wrote  one  as  early  as  the  6th  of  No 
vember,  1677,  "  that  I  do  not  see  how  reasonably  it  can  be 
found  fault  with.  The  country  and  air  seem  very  agreeable 
to  our  bodies,  and  we  have  very  good  stomachs  to  our 
victuals.  Here  is  plenty  of  provision,  of  fish  and  fowl  and 
good  venison,  not  dry,  but  full  of  gravy.  And  I  do  be 
lieve  that  this  river  of  Delaware  is  as  good  a  river  as  most 
in  the  world."  "  I  like  the  place  well,"  said  another,  three 
days  afterward ;  "  it's  like  to  be  a  healthful  place  and  very 
pleasant  to  live  in."  A  report  having  spread  in  England 
that  the  water  and  soil  were  bad,  and  danger  to  be  feared 
from  bears,  wolves,  rattlesnakes,  and  Indians — the  first,  but 
not  the  last  time  that  Burlington  has  been  slandered — six 
of  the  leading  settlers  indignantly  deny  its  truth,  declaring 
that  "  those  that  cannot  be  contented  with  such  a  country 
and  such  land  as  this  is  are  not  worthy  to  come  here."  fi  I 


284  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

affirm,"  said  one,  "  that  these  reports  are  not  true,  and  fear 
they  were  spoke  from  a  spirit  of  envy.  It  is  a  country  that 
produceth  all  things  for  the  support  and  sustenance  of  man. 
I  have  seen  orchards  laden  with  fruit  to  admiration  ;  their 
very  limbs  torn  to  pieces  with  the  weight,  and  most  deli 
cious  to  the  taste  and  lovely  to  behold.  I  have  seen  an 
apple-tree  from  a  pippin  kernel  yield  a  barrel  of  curious 
cyder,  and  peaches  in  such  plenty  that  some  people  took 
their  carts  a  peach  gathering.  I  could  not  but  smile  at  the 
conceit  of  it.  I  have  known  this  summer  forty  bushels  of 
bold  wheat  from  one  bushel  sown.  We  have  from  the  time 
called  May  till  Michaelmas  great  store  of  very  good  wild 
fruits — strawberries,  cranberries,  and  whortleberries,  very 
wholesome.  Of  the  cranberries,  like  cherries  for  color  and 
bigness,  an  excellent  sauce  is  made  for  venison  and  turkeys. 
Of  these  we  have  great  plenty,  and  all  sorts  of  fish  and 
game.  Indeed  the  country,  take  it  as  a  wilderness,  is  a 
most  brave  country,  and,"  he  adds,  in  words  that  you  may 
make  use  of  to  the  world  yourselves  to-day,  "  whatever 
envy  or  evil  spies  may  speak  of  it,  I  could  wish  you  all 
here."*  From  the  Indians  these  settlers  experienced  little 
trouble.  The  Mantas,  it  is  true,  who  dwelt  hard  by,  had 
committed  a  murder  at  Matiniconk  and  plundered  poor 
Jegou  some  years  before  the  arrival  of  the  Kent,  but  these 
were  exceptional  instances.  The  Leni  Lenape  were  a  peaceful 
race.  Upright  in  person  and  straight  of  limb,  their  fierce 
countenances  of  tawny  reddish- brown  belied  a  gentle  nature. 
Grave  even  to  sadness,  courteous  to  strangers  and  respectful 
to  the  old,  never  in  haste  to  speak,  and  of  cool,  deliberate 
temper,  this  mysterious  people  easily  forgave  injury  and 
never  forgot  kindness — more  than  repaying  the  benevolent 

*  Smith's  History  of  New  Jersey  contains  these  letters. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  285 

humanity  of  the  settlers  of  Burlington  by  a  forbearing 
friendship  that  lived  as  long  as  they.  At  the  same  time  at 
which  the  savages  of  Virginia  were  punishing  cold-blooded 
murder  with  passionate  bloodshed,  and  scourging  with  fury 
every  plantation  from  the  Potomac  to  the  James,  and  on  the 
northern  sky  the  light  of  blazing  villages,  from  one  end  of 
New  England  to  the  other,  marked  the  despairing  vengeance 
of  King  Philip,  the  banks  of  Delaware  smiled  in  unbroken 
peace,  and  their  simple-hearted  native,  conscious  of  the  fate 
that  would  speedily  overtake  his  people — which  no  one  fore 
told  sooner  or  more  touchingly  than  he — was  saying  in  a 
council  here  in  Burlington :  "  We  are  your  brothers,  and 
intend  to  live  like  brothers  with  you.  We  will  have  a 
broad  path  for  you  and  us  to  walk  in.  If  an  Indian  be 
asleep  in  this  path,  the  Englishman  shall  pass  him  by  and 
do  him  no  harm ;  and  if  an  Englishman  be  asleep  in  it, 
the  Indian  shall  pass  him  by  and  say :  '  He  is  an  English 
man — he  is  asleep — let  him  alone.7  The  path  shall  be 
plain  ;  there  shall  not  be  in  it  a  stump  to  hurt  the  feet."* 

The  soil  fertile,  the  climate  healthy,  the  situation  good, 
and  the  Indian*  friendly,  the  little  settlement  soon  became 
a  prosperous  colony.  Ships  began  to  come  with  emigrants 
from  different  parts  of  England.  The  Willing  Mind,  from 
London,  with  sixty  passengers ;  the  "  Flieboat"  Martha, 
from  the  older  Burlington,  with  one  hundred  and  fourteen  ; 
the  Shield,  from  Hull,  and  several  more  beside.  It  is  this 


*  Smith's  History  of  New  Jersey,  p.  100,  and  136,  note  ;  Bancroft, 
vol.  ii.  p.  102,  et  seq.;  Idem.,  p.  216.  "  When  six  of  the  hostile  chief 
tains  presented  themselves  as  messengers  to  treat  of  a  reconcilia 
tion,  in  the  blind  fury  of  the  moment  they  were  murdered."  This 
was  in  1675.  The  war  in  Virginia  continued  more  than  a  year  after 
wards.  King  Philip's  "  rebellion"  broke  out  in  June,  1675.  He 
was  killed  in  August,  1676. 


286  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

last  one  of  which  the  story  is  told  that  tacking  too  near  the 
high  shore  called  "  Coaquannock,"  her  masts  caught  in  an 
overhanging  tree,  and  her  passengers,  unconscious  of  the 
Philadelphia  that  was  soon  to  be,  were  struck  by  the  beauty 
of  the  site,  and  spoke  of  its  fitness  for  a  town.*  The 
forests  were  felled  and  farms  sprang  up  in  all  directions. 
Ollive's  new  mill,  on  the  "Mill  Creek"  that  runs  into 
Rancocas,  was  quickly  built.  The  trade  with  Barbadoes 
was  begun  by  Mahlon  Stacy  and  others  as  early  as  the 
winter  of  1679-80,  whose  "ketch  of  fifty  tons"  met  with 
the  good  fortune  their  enterprise  deserved.  By  an  Act  of 
Assembly  in  the  following  year,  "  all  vessels  bound  to  the 
province"  were  "  obliged  to  enter  and  clear  at"  its  "  chief 
town  and  head,"  "the  port  of  Burlington,"  and  at  the 
same  time  two  annual  fairs  were  provided  for  in  the  market 
street,  "  for  all  sorts  of  cattle  and  all  manner  of  merchan 
dise.7^  But  in  the  bustle  of  the  growing  town  and  the 
attractions  of  an  opening  trade,  other  things  were  not  for 
gotten.  The  first  act  of  the  meeting  was  to  provide  for 
the  collections  of  money  once  a  month  for  "ye  support  of 
ye  poor,"  and  the  next  to  consider  "  selling  of  rum  unto 
Indians,"  and  whether  it  "be  lawful  att  all  for  friends 
pfessing  truth  to  be  concerned  in  itt."  It  has  been  said 
that  the  Quaker  has  never  been  the  friend  of  education. 
These  at  least  are  two  honorable  truths  in  the  history  of 
Burlington:  That  there,  before  1690,  William  Bradford 
found  work  arid  welcome  for  his  printing-press  ;J  and  her 

*  Watson's  Annals  of  Philadelphia,  vol.  i.  p.  10. 

f  Learning  and  Spicer's  Laws  of  New  Jersey,  p.  435 ;  Hazard's 
Annals  of  Pennsylvania,  vol.  i.  p.  537. 

$  My  authority  for  this  statement  was  the  following:  "At  A  yearly 
meetinge  held  at  Burlington  in  west  new  Jersey  the  10th  of  the  7th 
month  1690:  An  Account  beinge  giuen  heere  that  seuerall  particular 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  287 

people — before  William  Perm  had  ever  set  foot  on  Amer 
ican  soil — commemorated  the  fifth  anniversary  of  their 
settlement  by  consecrating  "to  the  use  of  the  public  schools" 
the  broad  acres  of  Matiniconk,  and  have  kept  them  piously 
devoted  to  that  purpose  from  that  day  to  this.* 

How  fortunate  would  it  have  been,  my  friends  of  Bur 
lington,  if  the  spirit  had  moved  one  of  these  early  settlers 
to  have  given  posterity  a  sketch  of  the  daily  life  of  the 

friends  haue  engaged  themselues  to  raise  A  considerable  sum  of 
money  for  the  encouragement  of  the  printer  to  continue  the  press 
heere:  it  is  Agreed  that  it  bee  recommend  to  each  quarterly  meet- 
inge  belonging  to  this  meetinge."  The  Hon.  John  William  Wallace, 
who  is  an  authority  on  these  matters,  and  has  given  especial  atten 
tion  to  the  life  of  the  printer  William  Bradford  (vide  his  valuable 
Address  on  the  subject  in  New  York  in  May,  1863),  has  called  my 
attention  to  the  following  extract  from  the  Salem  Monthly  Meeting 
Minute  Book  No.  1 :  "  whereas  in  the  month  Called  nouember:  1689: 
A  gratuity  was  giuen  to  William  bradford  printer  that  hee  should 
continue  his  press  in  Philadelphia  it  being  forty  pound  A  yeare  from 
and  After  the  date  hereof,  for  Seuen  years;"  and  adds,  "on  5th 
mo.  2Gth  1689  Bradford,  being  then  in  Philada.,  gaue  notice  to 
Friends  of  his  purpose  to  go  to  England  and  got  a  bene  decessit 
accordingly.  Now,  by  the  above  extract  the  meeting  in  1689  gave 
(actually  gave,  it  would  seem)  a  gratuity  to  Bradford  to  'continue' 
his  press  in  Philadelphia  for  seven  years  from  that  time.  We  have 
in  1688  and  also  in  1693  books  printed  by  him  in  Philadelphia.  In 
1690  he  established  a  paper-mill  on  the  Wissahickon.  It  would 
seem,  therefore,  that  the  word  '  heere'  does  not  mean  here  in  Bur 
lington,  but  here  in  America,  or  hereabouts  and  within  the  juris 
diction  of  the  Quakers  assembled  at  Burlington."  I  agree  with 
Mr.  Wallace  that  "this,  I  fear,  hardly  makes  out  the  case  for  our 
dear  old  town  of  Burlington;"  but  I  leave  the  passage  in  the  text 
to  stand  as  spoken,  with  this  correction  in  a  note.  The  town  was 
not,  in  all  probability,  the  scene  of  Bradford's  labors,  as  I  thought 
at  the  time  I  said  so,  but  the  townsfolk  are  entitled  to  the  credit 
which  I  claimed  for  them  just  the  same. 
*  Act  of  Assembly,  September  28,  1682. 


288  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

young  colony  !  How  delightful  to  have  been  able  to  see,  as 
with  the  eye  of  a  contemporary,  the  infant  town !  The 
forest  of  oak  and  sassafras,  and  birch  and  maple  encircling 
the  island ;  the  broad  main  street  cut  through  the  clearing, 
and  but  lately  freed  from  stumps ;  the  clap-board  houses 
beginning  to  rise  on  every  side ;  Samuel  Jennings's,  on  the 
corner  of  Pearl  Street,  the  new  Governor,  "  a  man  of  both 
spiritual  and  worldly  wisdom,  a  suppressor  of  vice  and  an 
encourager  of  virtue;'7*  and  Thomas  Gardiner's  next, 
where  the  meetings  are  held  till  the  new.place  of  worship 
can  be  built.  It  is  at  one  of  these,  perhaps,  that  the 
Labadists  dine  in  1679,  on  their  way  to  Tinicum  and  Up 
land.  "  The  Quakers,"  they  write,  "  are  a  very  worldly 
people.  On  the  window  we  found  a  copy  of  Virgil,  as  if 
it  had  been  a  common  hand-book,  and  Helmont's  book  on 
medicine !"  How  pleasant,  too,  to  walk  in  imagination 
along  the  bank  of  the  newly-surveyed  river  lots  and  admire 
the  good  ship  Shield,  as  she  lies  in  the  stream,  moored  by 
a  long  rope  to  a  leaning  buttonwoodf  that  stands  by  the 
water's  edge,  or  watch  yonder  canoe  as  it  comes  swiftly 
across  the  river  laden  with  the  fat  carcass  of  a  noble  buck  ! 
The  village  is  full  of  cheery  noise,  the  constant  sound  of 
the  hammer  and  the  saw,  and  every  now  and  then  a  crash 
like  distant  thunder  tells  of  the  falling  of  some  giant  tree. 
Now,  perhaps,  a  horn  blown  from  Thomas  Gardiner's  calls 
the  town-meeting  together,  to  appoint  ten  men  to  help  lay 
out  the  town's  share  of  a  road  through  the  wilderness  to 
Salem,  or  four  of  the  proprietors  to  get  to  work  to  drain 

*  Robert  Proud,  quoted  by  Bowden  in  his  History  of  Friends. 

f  Tradition  says  that  this  is  the  gigantic  tree  in  front  of  Gov 
ernor  Franklin's  house  (now  torn  down)  about  which  the  "witches 
used  to  dance." 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  289 

the  meadows,  or  solemnly  resolve  "  that  the  townfolk  meet 
at  five  o'clock  the  next  morning  to  go  and  clear  the  brush 
upon  the  island."  It  may  be  market  day,  and  here  are 
Indians  with  venison  and  turkeys  and  plenty  of  wild  fruit 
for  sale;  or,  yonder  on  a  stump,  Ollive,  the  magistrate, 
holds  his  rustic  court,  and,  while  his  neighbors  stand  rev 
erently  by,  dispenses  impartial  justice.  The  Sabbath  morn 
ing  comes  to  begin  the  busy  week,  and  the  little  town  is 
still.  The  hammer  and  the  saw  are  laid  aside,  and  the  axe 
rests  undisturbed  against  the  tree.  All  is  so  quiet  that  the 
rustling  of  the  dead  leaves  can  be  heard  as  they  fall  through 
the  frosty  air,  and  the  cawing  of  the  crows  as  they  rise  from 
their  roost  in  the  distant  pines.  No  sentinel,  with  leathern 
doublet,  his  matchlock  resting  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm, 
stands  guard  by  yonder  house,  or  watches  with  suspicious 
eye,  his  hand  upon  his  cutlass,  the  curious  savage  who 
walks  unbidden  to  the  door.  Within  is  gathered  a  little 
company,  seated  in  solemn  silence  or  listening  with  rapt 
attention  as  one  of  their  number,  with  rude  but  reverent 
manner,  and  perhaps  unlettered  speech,  talks  of  the  Inner 
Light  and  of  the  goodness  of  Him  who  placed  them  in  the 
wilderness  and  protects  them  there. 

A  simple  anecdote  recorded  by  a  descendant,  and,  until 
now,  forgotten  for  a  century,  is  worthy  of  remembrance  :* 
"Tradition  delivers/'  he  says,  "that  when  Thomas  Ollive 
acted  in  the  quadruple  character  of  governor,  preacher, 
tanner,  and  miller,  a  customer  asked,  '  Well,  Thomas,  when 
can  my  corn  be  ground  ?'  '  I  shall  be  at  the  Assembly  next 


*  My  friend  Brinton  Coxe,  Esq.,  to  whom  I  am  under  many  obli 
gations  for  kind  and  intelligent  assistance  in  gathering  materials, 
has  given  me  this,  which  he  found  in  a  MS.  note  written  by  11.  Smith 
in  1796  on  page  573  of  his  copy  of  Learning  and  Spicer. 


290  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

Third-day/  replied  the  good  man,  t  and  I  will  bring  it  for 
thee  behind  me  on  my  horse/ >;  Such  were  your  governors 
in  those  early  days!  O  rara  temporum  simplicitas ! 

What  wonder  then  that  the  seed  planted  by  those  hands 
took  root  and  brought  forth  fruit  an  hundred-fold  !  What 
wonder  that  the  strong  right  arm  of  men  like  this  conquered 
the  forest  and  made  the  wilderness  to  bloom  !  What  won 
der  that  as  this  godly  people  looked  back  to  those  days  be 
yond  the  stormy  sea  their  hearts  were  stirred  within  them 
and  they  cried  :  "  Blessed  be  the  God  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac, 
and  of  Jacob  that  has  called  us  not  hither  in  vain !"  "  He 
was  with  us  and  is  with  us ;  yea,  he  hath  made  our  way  for 
us  and  proved  and  confirmed  to  us  his  word  and  provi 
dence!"  "The  desert  sounds;  the  wilderness  rejoices,  a 
visitation  outwardly  and  inwardly  is  come  to  America; 
God  is  Lord  of  all  the  earth  and  at  the  setting  of  the  sun 
will  his  name  be  famous."* 

My  countrymen:  Since  those  words  were  spoken  and 
this  town  was  built  two  hundred  years  have  come  and  gone. 
The  seed  that  could  blossom  in  the  dense  thickets  of  New 
Jersey  and  find  a  root  among  the  rocks  of  Plymouth  has 
planted  a  continent  with  liberty  and  law.  The  light  that 
glimmered  on  the  Delaware  and  lit  the  cold  waves  of  Boston 
Bay,  was  but  the  dawn  of  that  advancing  age  whose  morn 
ing  beams  now  shine  with  impartial  splendor  upon  all  man 
kind.  Your  fathers'  prayers  are  granted,  and  their  prophecy 
fulfilled !  Here  on  the  threshold  of  your  history  I  needs 
must  stop.  My  task  is  finished,  and  my  duty  done.  How 
could  I  hope  to  tell  the  story  of  two  centuries  ?  How  dear 
old  St.  Mary's  Church  was  founded  in  Queen  Anne's  reign. 


*  Letter  of  William  Perm  and  others,   1st  month,  1683.     Vide 
Bowden's  History  of  Friends,  vol.  i.  p.  20. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  291 

How  in  colonial  days  great  men  as  Governors  lived  in  Bur 
lington  ;  how  Council  and  Assembly  met  in  the  now  ran- 
ished  court-house,  b3fore  whose  door  one  day  George 
Whitefield  preached ;  how,  in  a  darker  time,  the  Hessians 
camped  in  a  meadow  beyond  Yorkshire  Bridge ;  how  the 
Whigs  knocked  one  night  at  Margaret  Morris's  door,  and 
the  Tory  parson  hid  trembling  in  the  "  auger  hole ;"  how 
patriotic  gondolas  bombarded  Burlington,  and  managed  to 
hit  a  house  at  Broad  and  York  Streets ;  how,  in  the  follow 
ing  year,  the  British  in  their  turn  opened  the  cannonade, 
and  after  an  hour's  fire  knocked  a  hole  in  Adam  Shepherd's 
stable  near  the  wharf;  how  things  were  quiet  for  a  little 
while  till  Light- Horse  Harry  Lee  came  thundering  in.* 

And  what  can  I  hope  to  say,  in  the  last  moments  of  so 
long  a  speech,  of  the  inhabitants  of  a  city  whose  life  has  not 
been  more  peaceful  than  her  sons  illustrious.  From  the 
beginning  to  the  end,  in  times  of  the  Colony,  the  Province, 
and  State,  it  has  always  been  the  same.  Here  were  the 
famous  printers,  Bradford  the  pioneer,  and  Isaac  Collins, 
who  published  the  first  Jersey  newspaper,  f  Here  dwelt 

*  James  Craft's  Journal,  Hist.  Mag.,  vol.  i.  p.  300,  Boston,  1857  : 
"  6th  mo.  16th,  1770,  Geo.  Whitefield,  the  Great  Calvinistic  Preacher, 
preach t  before  the  Court  House.  Great  Audience.  Deal  of  humor. 
12th  mo.  1 1th,  1776,  sad  work  this  day.  The  Hessians  came.  Town 
fired  on  by  gondolas.  Nobody  hurt,  altho'  large  and  small  shot  was 
fired  plenty  and  in  all  directions.  5th  mo.  10,  1778.  British  carne 
back  (from  Bordentown)  and  0  what  a  whipping  our  poor  town  got, 
tho'  through  blessing  nobody  hurt.  Bullets  and  every  kind  of  shot 
showered  down  upon  us  for  hours.  12th  mo.  16th,  1778,  Lee's  troop 
of  horse  at  Burlington."  For  an  amusing  account  of  Dr.  Odell's 
adventure  in  the  hidden  chamber  called  the  "Auger  hole,"  see  Dr. 
Hill's  excellent  History  of  the  Church  in  Burlington,  p.  321.  Vide 
Barber  and  Howe's  Historical  Collection,  pp.  94,  95. 

f  Of  Bradford  I  have  spoken  in  an  earlier  note.  Isaac  Collins  was 
a  man  of  great  prominence  in  the  Colony.  He  was  appointed  Co- 


292  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

Judge  Daniel  Coxe,  who  planned  a  union  for  the  Colonies 
full  thirty  years  ere  Franklin  thought  of  it,  and  half  a  cen 
tury  before  the  Kevolution.*  Here  came  Elias  Boudinot, 
the  President  of  Congress,  to  pass  the  evening  of  his  well- 
spent  life ;  and  in  the  spacious  garden  of  his  house  some 
of  you  may  have  seen  his  daughter  and  her  friend,  those 
venerable  women  who  had  borne  the  names  of  William 
Bradford  and  Alexander  Hamilton. f  Here,  on  a  Saturday 
morning,  weary  with  walking  "  more  than  fifty  miles,'7 
clad  "  in  a  working  dress,"  his  "  pockets  stuffed  out  with 
shirts  and  stockings,"  a  boy  of  seventeen  came  trudging 
into  town.  Nobody  noticed  him,  except  to  smile  perhaps, 
save  an  old  woman  who  talked  to  him  kindly  and  sold  him 
gingerbread.  Years  afterward  he  came  again  to  print  the 
money  of  the  Province  and  become  the  friend  of  all  the 
great  men  who  dwelt  in  Burlington,  for  by  that  time  the 
world  had  begun  to  hear  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  J  Two 

lonial  printer  in  1770,  and  issued  the  first  number  of  the  New  Jersey 
Gazette  on  December  5,  1777. 

*  In  the  preface  to  his  "  Description  of  Carolana,  &c.,  &c.,"  pub 
lished  in  London  in  1722.  He  was  the  son  of  Daniel  Coxe,  of  Lon 
don,  the  Proprietary  Governor,  and  was  a  Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court.  The  Coxe  family  was  long  prominent  in  the  history  of  Bur 
lington  and  West  Jersey. 

f  Elias  Boudinot  was  President  of  Congress  in  1782,  and  Director 
of  the  Mint  under  General  Washington's  administration.  He  was 
the  first  President,  and  in  conjunction  with  his  friend  and  kinsman 
Mr.  Wallace,  the  originator  of  the  American  Bible  Society.  His 
daughter  and  only  child  married  the  Hon.  William  Bradford,  At 
torney-General  in  Washington's  cabinet.  Alexander  Hamilton  had 
been  a  friend  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Boudinot  in  his  boyhood,  and  the 
colleague  of  his  son-in-law  in  the  cabinet.  The  friendship  between 
the  widows  of  those  two  remarkable  men,  both  so  untimely  cut  off 
in  their  prime,  continued  to  the  end  of  their  long  lives. 

|  Bigelow's  Franklin's  Autobiography,  pp.  110  and  163. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  293 

other  boys  belong  to  Burlington.  Born  side  by  side,  be 
neath  adjoining  roofs,  close  to  this  spot  where  you  are 
gathered  now,  both  became  sailors ;  but  of  different  desti 
nies.  The  elder,  after  a  brief  but  brilliant  life,  fell  in  dis 
astrous  battle  on  the  deck  with  the  immortal  cry  upon  his 
lips  of  "  Don't  give  up  the  ship  !"  The  younger  lived  to 
a  green  and  vigorous  old  age,  to  make  those  Jersey  names 
of  Fenimore  and  Cooper  famous  forever  in  American  litera 
ture  I*  Count  this  array  of  native  or  adopted  citizens : 
Ellis  and  Stockton  and  Button  and  Sterling  and  Woolman 
and  the  mysterious  Tyler;  Franklin,  the  Tory  governor, 
and  Temple,  his  accomplished  son;  Samuel  Smith,  the  his 
torian,  and  Samuel  J.  Smith,  the  poet;  William  Coxe,  the 
pomologist,  and  John  Griscom,  the  friend  of  learning; 
Shippen  and  Cole  in  medicine,  and  Dean  and  the  Gum- 
meres  in  education ;  Bloomfield  and  Mcllvaine  and  Wall 
in  politics,  and  at  the  bar,  Griffith,  Wallace,  Heed,  two  gen 
erations  of  the  Mcllvaines  and  four  of  the  name  of  Kinsey, 
and  those  great  masters  of  the  law,  Charles  Chauncey  and 
Horace  Binney.f  Read  the  long  list  of  teachers  of  religion ; 

*  James  Fenimore  Cooper  in  a  published  letter  dated  1844  said : 
"  I  was  born  in  the  last  house  but  one  of  the  main  street  of  Burling 
ton  as  one  goes  into  the  country.  There  are  two  houses  of  brick 
stuccoed,  built  together,  the  one  having  five  windows  in  front  and 
the  other  four,  the  first  being  the  last  house  in  the  street.  In  this 
house  dwelt  Mr.  Lawrence,  my  old  commander,  Captain  Lawrence's 
father,  and  in  the  four-window  house  my  father." 

f  Charles  Ellis,  Samuel  Stockton,  and  Thomas  Dutton  were  prom 
inent  citizens  in  Burlington  half  a  century  ago  ;  the  latter  in  connec 
tion  with  John  Griscom,  LL.D.,  W.  H.  Allen,  and  Thomas  Milnor, 
was  active  in  founding  the  Public  Schools,  and  the  names  of  all  of 
them  are  honorably  borne  in  Burlington  to-day.  James  Sterling  was 
a  famous  merchant — his  store  at  the  corner  of  Broad  and  Main  Streets 
was  known  from  Sussex  to  Cape  May.  James  Hunter  Sterling  is 


294  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

I  name  the  dead  alone — Grellet  and  Cox  and  Hoskins 
and  Mott  and  Dillwyn  among  Friends,  and  in  the  Church 

remembered  as  the  benefactor  of  the  Library,  to  whom  we  owe  the 
handsome  building.  Richard  Tyler  was  an  accomplished  English 
man  of  wealth  and  evidently  of  rank,  who  settled  in  Burlington  early 
in  this  century.  There  was  some  mystery  about  his  life  which  has 
never  been  solved.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  he  was  a  relative 
of  Warren  Hastings.  John  Woolman,  the  famous  Quaker  preacher, 
was  a  Burlington  County  man,  and  the  name  has  existed  there  for 
the  past  two  centuries;  the  late  Burr  Woolman  and  his  son  Frank 
lin  Woolman,  Esq.,  have  both  been  Surveyor-Generals  of  West  Jer 
sey.  Governor  William  Franklin  lived  in  the  large  house  on  the 
bank  afterward  occupied  by  Charles  Chauncey  as  a  summer  resi 
dence,  and  torn  down  in  1873.  His  son,  Temple,  lived  in  elegant 
retirement  with  his  books,  and  died  at  Franklin  Park  on  the  Ran- 
cocas,  about  six  miles  out  of  town.  Samuel  Smith,  the  historian,  was 
long  Treasurer  of  the  Province.  A  notice  of  him  has  recently  appeared 
as  a  preface  to  a  second  edition  of  his  history,  published  in  1877,  and 
an  interesting  paper  on  this  subject  of  Samuel  J.  Smith  and  his 
writings  can  be  found  at  page  39  of  vol.  ix.  of  the  Proceedings  of 
the  New  Jersey  Historical  Society.  Both  are  by  John  Jay  Smith, 
Esq.  Dr.  William  Coxe  was  quite  famous  as  a  pomologist  about  the 
beginning  of  this  century,  and  Griscom's  Travels  was  a  noted  and 
much  read  book.  Dr.  Edward  Shippen  lived  many  years  in  the  house 
occupied  for  nearly  fifty  years  by  the  late  Joseph  Askew  in  Ellis 
Street  at  the  end  of  Broad.  Dr.  Nathaniel  W.  Cole  was  an  excellent 
citizen  and  a  physician  of  great  skill  and  experience.  James  Dean, 
LL.D.,  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  Vermont  University  ;  John  Gum- 
mere,  the  author  of  works  on  Astronomy,  Surveying,  etc.,  and  Samuel 
R.  Gum  in  ere,  of  others  on  Oratory,  Geography,  etc.,  are  honored 
names  in  the  history  of  Education.  "Gummere's  schools"  had  a 
famous  reputation  forty  years  ago.  Joseph  Bloomfield,  a  soldier  of 
the  Revolution  and  long  Governor  of  the  State,  lived  in  the  large 
house  on  Main  Street  known  by  his  name.  Joseph  Mcllvaine  was 
United  States  Senator  in  1820,  Garret  D.  Wall  in  1834,  and  his  son 
James  W.  Wall  in  1860.  William  Griffith  was  a  most  accomplished 
lawyer  and  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bar.  He  was  one  of  John 
Adams's  "Midnight  Judges  ;"  Joshua  Maddox  Wallace,  also  at  one 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  295 

Talbot,  the  missionary,  the  witty  Odell,  the  venerable 
Wharton,  the  saintlike  Mcllvaine,  and  that  princely  prelate 
— the  most  imposing  figure  of  my  boyish  memories — 


time  Judge  of  the  Pleas  of  Burlington  County,  was  a  very  distin 
guished  man,  the  co-worker  of  Mr.  Boudinot  in  the  Bible  Society. 
He  was  the  father  of  another  well-known  lawyer,  John  B.  Wallace, 
and  the  grandfather  of  two  others  whose  names  are  prominent  in 
American  legal  literature — John  William  Wallace,  lately  the  Reporter 
of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  and  Horace  Binney  Wallace. 
Bowes  Heed  was  a  brother  of  General  Joseph  Reed,  Washington's 
Aide-de-Camp.  Joseph  Mcllvaine,the  Senator,  was  also  distinguished 
at  the  Bar  and  the  father  of  Bloomfield  Mcllvaine,  whose  early  death 
alone  prevented  his  taking  the  front  rank  in  the  profession.  The 
Kinsey  family  has  been  remarkable  in  the  law.  John  Kinsey,  the 
son  of  the  first-comer,  was  noted  in  provincial  history  as  a  leader  of 
the  profession  ;  John  Kinsey,  his  son,  was  Chief  Justice  of  Pennsyl 
vania  and  died  in  1750  ;  James  Kinsey,  his  grandson,  was  Chief  Jus 
tice  of  New  Jersey,  and  the  late  Charles  Kinsey,  his  great-grandson, 
was  an  eminent  and  learned  lawyer.  Mr.  Chauncey  and  Mr.  Binney 
lived  for  many  summers  side  by  side  on  the  bank,  the  latter  at  the 
corner  of  Wood  Street,  in  the  house  owned  by  the  late  Edward  B. 
Grubb. 

There  are  many  other  names  which  one  might  speak  of  and  which 
ought  to  be  remembered  ;  Samuel  Emlen,  Elihu  Chauncey,  who  lived 
where  the  College  stands  to-day,  Charles  Read,  Judge  of  Admiralty 
before  the  Revolution,  and  Andrew  Allen  the  grandson  of  Chief- 
Justice  Allen,  "a  most  accomplished  man,"  at  one  time  British 
Consul  at  Boston,  but  after  1812  a  resident  of  Burlington,  in  the 
house  where  St.  Mary's  Hall  was  afterwards  erected,  were  all  men 
whose  names  ought  not  to  be  forgotten.  Barbaroux  and  Benoist 
were  Frenchmen  of  family  and  fortune  who  settled  in  Burlington 
after  the  troubles  in  San  Domingo.  Both  of  these  families  lived  on 
the  bank.  John  Michael  Ilanckel  was  the  Principal  of  the  Academy : 
"His  talents,"  said  Rev.  Dr.  Wharton  in  his  epitaph,  "were  of  the 
first  order."  He  died  at  twenty-nine.  In  an  humbler  walk  in  life 
were  Thomas  Aikman,  the  Sexton  and  Undertaker,  Ben  Shepherd, 
and  Captain  Jacob  Myers  of  the  "Mayflower,"  a  well-known  char 
acter. 


296         T.HE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

whose  tongue  alone  could  have  done  justice  to  this  anni 
versary  !* 

Now  as  I  speak  of  them  under  the  inspiration  of  these 
memories  I  seem  to  feel  the  touch  of  vanished  hands  and 
hear  the  sound  of  voices  that  are  still.  Before  me  rise  the 
scenes  of  other  days.  I  see  the  brilliant  Wall ;  the  rough 
and  ready  Engle ;  the  venerable  Grellet ;  Allen,  your  Mayor 
for  quarter  of  a  century ;  the  little  form,  too  small  for  such 
a  heart,  of  William  Allinson ;  the  white  head  of  Thomas 
Milnor;  the  well-beloved  face  of  Cortlandt  Van  Rens- 


*  John  Cox,  John  Hoskins,  Richard  Mott,  and  George  Dillwyn 
were  eminent  as  preachera.  Stephen  Grellet  had  an  extraordinary 
life ;  born  a  nobleman,  he  escaped  from  France  during  the  terrors  of 
1793  and  became  a  Missionary  among  Friends.  Vide  his  life,  pub 
lished  by  Benjamin  Seebohn,  London.  He  was  a  man  of  excellent 
talents,  and  great  purity  and  benevolence.  Dr.  Hill's  book,  to 
which  I  have  referred  before,  contains  the  best  account  of  Talbot, 
Odell,  and  Wharton.  The  Rt.  Rev.  Charles  Pettit  Mcllvaine,  D.D., 
LL.D.,  D.C.L.,  Bishop  of  Ohio,  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  distin 
guished  prelates  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  He  was  born  at  the 
northwest  corner  of  Broad  and  Main  Streets.  His  father,  the  Sen 
ator,  was  a  son  of  Colonel  Joseph  Mcllvaine  of  the  Revolution. 
His  wife  was  a  daughter  of  Dr.  William  Coxe.  I  cannot  condense 
into  a  note  any  expression  which  would  convey  to  those  who  never 
knew  him  the  place  which  Bishop  Doane  filled  in  Burlington  between 
1840  and  1859.  Riverside  was  an  Episcopal  palace,  filled  always 
with  distinguished  men  from  home  and  abroad,  among  whom  the 
host  was  an  acknowledged  chief.  Burlington  College  was  in  the 
beginning  of  an  apparently  flourishing  life.  St.  Mary's  Hall  was  a 
successful  institution.  St.  Mary's  was  the  cathedral  church  of  the 
Diocese,  and  on  every  occasion,  ecclesiastical,  collegiate,  social,  polit 
ical,  on  Commencement  Day,  at  Christmas,  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  the 
Bishop  was  a  prominent  and  attractive  figure.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  wondering  admiration  with  which  I  used  to  look  at  him  ;  and 
the  fascination  of  his  manner — for  no  one  had  the  gift  of  charming 
the  young  more  than  he — lingers  with  me  still. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  297 

selaer ;  and  the  splendid  countenance  and  manly  form  of 
him — the  friend  of  many  here — whose  name  I  dare  not  trust 
myself  to  speak  !  And  you,  too — friends  of  my  boyhood's 
days,  whom  death  has  crowned  with  an  immortal  youth — 
you,  young  defenders  of  my  country's  honor — Grubb, 
Chase,  Barclay,  Baquet,  and  Van  Rensselaer — on  such  a 
day  as  this  you,  too,  shall  be  remembered  I* 

*  These  names  need  no  explanatory  note  to-day,  but  I  must  not 
forget  that  a  generation  is  rapidly  approaching  to  whom  they  will 
seem  as  shadowy  as  do  to  me  most  of  those  which  I  have  mentioned 
in  the  preceding  paragraph.  James  W.  Wall,  often  the  candidate 
of  his  party  for  Congress  and  a  Senator  for  a  short  time  in  1860, 
was  a  man  of  brilliant  talents,  a  witty  poet,  a  graceful  writer,  and 
an  orator  of  no  little  power.  Frederick  Engle,  who  died  a  Rear 
Admiral  of  the  United  States  Navy,  was  a  gallant  and  distinguished 
sailor.  Of  the  venerable  and  excellent  Grellet  I  have  already  spoken  ; 
he  lived  in  Main  Street,  next  the  alley  called  Library  Street,  opposite 
Governor  Bloomfield's.  When  it  was  known  that  perhaps  "  Friend 
Grellet  would  preach,"  there  were  many  of  the  world's  people  at 
meeting.  I  have  heard  him,  and  recall  a  tall  slender  figure  speak 
ing  with  strong  French  accent,  and  with  French  rather  than  Quaker 
warmth  and  vehemence.  William  R.  Allen  was  a  strong  man  in  every 
sense  ;  he  made  himself  felt  in  the  community  in  many  ways.  The 
name  of  Allinson  is  honorably  remembered.  David  Allinson  was 
a  publisher  and  Samuel  a  brewer ;  William  J.  was  a  druggist  and 
apothecary ;  he  was  active  in  all  that  concerned  the  good  of  Bur 
lington,  and  was  a  great  benefactor  of  the  Library  and  other  institu 
tions.  He  had  much  literary  taste,  and  great  antiquarian  knowledge 
and  zeal.  Thomas  Milnor  was  another  excellent  man,  whose  name 
should  not  be  forgotten.  Of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cortlandt  Van  Rensselaer 
all  Burlington ians  have  pleasant  memories.  His  activity  in  all 
good  works  outside  of  his  church,  of  which  he  may  be  called  the 
founder,  as  well  as  in  it,  endeared  him  greatly  to  the  community. 
He  was  a  very  distinguished  minister  in  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
and  a  man  of  great  learning  and  culture.  Frederick  Brown  of 
Philadelphia  built  his  house  called  "  Summer  Home"  in  1847,  and 
made  it  his  place  of  refuge  from  the  cares  of  an  active  life,  as  labor- 

20 


298  THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON. 

My  countrymen  :  The  age  that  saw  the  birth  of  Burling 
ton  has  passed  away.  The  passions  that  raged  about  her 
cradle  have  long  been  dead.  The  furies  of  contending 
creeds  have  been  forgotten,  and  Quaker  and  Presbyterian, 
Churchman  and  Catholic,  rest  in  her  bosom  side  by  side. 
The  twin  sycamores  by  yonder  meeting-house  stand  guard 
above  a  soil  enriched  with  the  bones  of  six  generations  of 
your  kindred,  and  the  spire  of  old  St.  Mary's  springs  from 
a  doubly  consecrated  mould.  The  tree,  the  ancient  church, 
the  pleasant  field,  the  flowing  river — these  shall  endure,  but 
you  shall  pass  away.  The  lifeless  thing  shall  live  and  the 
deathless  die.  It  is  God's  mystery;  we  cannot  solve  it. 

ious  as  it  was  singularly  useful,  until  his  death  in  1864.  Here  were 
the  extensive  graperies  filled  with  well-selected  vines,  the  orchards 
of  dwarf  pears,  the  rare  plants  and  flowers,  and  the  choice  trees  in 
which  he  took  such  genuine  delight  and  which  must  ever  be  asso 
ciated  in  his  children's  minds  with  the  memories  of  a  perfectly  happy 

childhood. 

"  Ille  te  mecum  locus  et  beat® 
Postulant  arces  ;  ibi  tu  calentem 
Debita  sparges  lacrima  favillain 
Patria  amici." 

There  are  other  names  which  ought  to  be  remembered  on  such 
anniversaries,  but  those  of  Isaac  Parker  Grubb,  Richard  Chase. 
Mark  Wilkes  Collet  Barclay,  Francis  Baquet,  and  Cortlandt  Van 
Rensselaer,  Jr.,  I  love  especially  to  recall.  They  all  died  in  the 
active  service  of  their  country  during  the  Rebellion.  Three  of 
them  "  with  their  bodies  bore  the  brunt  of  battle,  and  after  a  short 
and  quickly  decided  crisis  of  their  fate,  at  the  height  of  glory,  not 
of  fear,  yielded  up  their  lives  !"  Of  all  it  is  true  that,  in  those  other 
words  of  Pericles,  "  they  laid  down  their  bodies  and  their  lives  for 
their  country,  and  therefore  as  their  private  reward  they  receive  a 
deathless  fame  and  the  noblest  of  sepulchres,  not  so  much  that  in 
which  their  bones  are  entombed  as  that  in  which  their  glory  is  pre 
served  to  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance  on  all  occasions,  whether 
of  speech  or  action." 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON.  299 

That  change  that  has  come  to  all  must  come  to  you — and 
long  before  this  story  shall  be  told  again,  you  will  have  fol 
lowed  the  footsteps  of  your  fathers.  But  still  on  the  banks 
of  Delaware  shall  stand  your  ancient  town.  Time  shall 
not  harm  her  nor  age  destroy  the  beauty  of  her  face. 
Wealth  may  not  come  to  her,  nor  power,  nor  fame  among 
the  cities  of  the  earth ;  but  civil  freedom  and  liberty  of 
conscience  are  now  her  children's  birthright,  and  she  rests 
content.  Happy,  indeed,  if  they  can  exclaim,  with  each 
recurring  anniversary,  as  their  fathers  did  two  hundred 
years  ago  :  "  We  are  a  family  at  peace  within  ourselves  !"* 

*  Wrote  William  Penn  and  others  in  the  1st  month  (March),  1683  : 
"Dear  friends  and  brethren,  we  have  no  cause  to  murmur;  our  lot 
is  fallen  every  way  in  a  good  place,  and  the  Son  of  God  is  among 
us.  We  are  a  family  at  peace  within  ourselves,  and  truly  great  is 
our  joy  therefore."  I  add  an  amusing  quotation  from  old  Gabriel 
Thomas.  Writing  in  1698  he  says:  "Of  Lawyers  and  Physicians 
I  shall  say  nothing,  because  this  Country  is  very  Peaceable  and 
Healthy ;  long  may  it  so  continue  and  never  have  occasion  for  the 
Tongue  of  the  one,  nor  the  Pen  of  the  other,  both  equally  destruc 
tive  to  Men's  Estates  and  Lives  ;  besides  forsooth  they,  Hang-Man 
like,  have  a  License  to  Murder  and  Make  Mischief." 


ORATION 


AT 


VALLEY   FORGE, 

JUNE  19,  1878, 


THE   ONE   HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY  OF  THE   DE 
PARTURE  OF   THE  AKMY  OF   THE   REVOLUTION 
FROM  WINTER  QUARTERS  AT  THAT  PLACE. 


ORATION. 


IT  is  an  honor  to  be  here  to-day.  It  is  a  privilege  to 
behold  this  anniversary.  This  unusual  spectacle,  these 
solemn  services,  these  flags  and  decorations,  this  tuneful 
choir,  this  military  array,  this  distinguished  company,  this 
multitude  darkening  all  the  hillside,  proclaim  the  general 
interest  and  attest  its  magnitude.  And  it  is  proper  to 
commemorate  this  time.  One  hundred  years  ago  this 
country  was  the  scene  of  extraordinary  events  and  very 
honorable  actions.  We  feel  the  influence  of  them  in  our 
institutions  and  our  daily  lives,  and  it  is  both  natural  and 
right  for  us  to  seek,  by  some  means,  to  mark  their  hun 
dredth  anniversaries.  Those  moments  are  passing  quickly. 
Lexington,  Bunker  Hill,  Germantown,  Saratoga,  have  gone 
by  already.  Mon mouth,  Stony  Point,  Eutaw,  and  York- 
town  are  close  at  hand.  It  is  eminently  fit  that  we  should 
gather  here. 

I  cannot  add  to  what  has  already  been  said  about  this 
place.  The  deeds  which  have  made  it  famous  have  passed 
into  history.  The  page  on  which  they  are  recorded  is 
written.  We  can  neither  add  to  it  nor  take  away.  The 
heroic  dead  who  suffered  here  are  far  beyond  our  reach. 
No  human  eulogy  can  make  their  glory  greater,  no  failure 
to  do  them  justice  make  it  less.  Theirs  is  a  perfect  fame 
— safe,  certain,  and  complete.  Their  trials  here  secured 
the  happiness  of  a  continent ;  their  labors  have  borne  fruit 

303 


304  VALLEY  FORGE. 

in  the  free  institutions  of  a  powerful  nation ;  their  examples 
give  hope  to  every  race  and  clime;  their  names  live  on  the 
lips  of  a  grateful  people;  their  memory  is  cherished  in 
their  children's  hearts  and  shall  endure  forever.  It  is  not 
for  their  sakes  then,  but  for  our  own,  that  we  have  assem 
bled  here  to-day.  This  anniversary,  if  I  understand  it 
right,  has  a  purpose  of  its  own.  It  is  duty  that  has  brought 
us  here.  The  spirit  appropriate  to  this  hour  is  one  of 
humility  rather  than  of  pride,  of  reverence  rather  than  of 
exultation.  We  come,  it  is  true,  the  representatives  of 
forty  millions  of  free  men  by  Ways  our  fathers  never 
dreamed  of,  from  regions  of  which  they  never  heard.  We 
come  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  under  a  sky  of  peace,  power 
in  our  right  hand  and  the  keys  of  knowledge  in  our  left. 
But  we  are  here  to  learn  rather  than  to  teach  ;  to  worship, 
not  to  glorify.  We  come  to  contemplate  the  sources  of  our 
country's  greatness;  to  commune  with  the  honored  past; 
to  remind  ourselves,  and  show  our  children  that  Joy  can 
come  out  of  Sorrow,  Happiness  out  of  Suffering,  Light  out 
of  Darkness,  Life  out  of  Death. 

Such  is  the  meaning  of  this  anniversary.  I  cannot  do 
it  justice.  Would  that  there  could  come  to  some  one  in 
this  multitude  a  tongue  of  fire — an  inspiration  born  of  the 
time  itself,  that,  standing  in  this  place  and  speaking  with 
the  voice  of  olden  time,  he  might  tell  us  in  fitting  language 
of  our  fathers !  But  it  cannot  be.  Not  even  now — not 
even  here.  Perhaps  we  do  not  need  it.  Some  of  us  bear 
their  blood,  and  all  alike  enjoy  the  happiness  their  valor 
and  endurance  won.  And  if  my  voice  be  feeble,  we  have 
but  to  look  around.  The  hills  that  saw  them  suffer  look 
down  on  us ;  the  ground  that  thrilled  beneath  their  feet  we 
tread  to-day ;  their  unmarked  graves  still  lie  in  yonder 
field ;  the  breastworks  which  they  built  to  shelter  them 


VALLEY  FORGE.  305 

surround  us  here !  Dumb  witnesses  of  the  heroic  past,  ye 
need  no  tongues !  Face  to  face  with  you  we  see  it  all : — 
this  soft  breeze  changes  to  an  icy  blast;  these  trees  drop 
the  glory  of  the  summer,  and  the  earth  beneath  our  feet  is 
wrapped  in  snow.  Beside  us  is  a  village  of  log  huts — 
along  that  ridge  smoulder  the  fires  of  a  camp.  The  sun 
has  sunk,  the  stars  glitter  in  the  inky  sky,  the  camp  is 
hushed,  the  fires  are  out,  the  night  is  still.  All  are  in 
slumber  save  when  a  lamp  glimmers  in  a  cottage  window, 
and  a  passing  shadow  shows  a  tall  figure  pacing  to  and  fro. 
The  cold  silence  is  unbroken  save  when  on  yonder  rampart, 
crunching  the  crisp  snow  with  wounded  feet,  a  ragged 
sentinel  keeps  watch  for  Liberty ! 

The  close  of  1777  marked  the  gloomiest  period  of  the 
Revolution.  The  early  enthusiasm  of  the  struggle  had 
passed  away.  The  doubts  which  the  first  excitements 
banished  had  returned.  The  novelty  of  war  had  gone,  and 
its  terrors  become  awfully  familiar.  Fire  and  sword  had 
devastated  some  of  the  best  parts  of  the  country,  its  cities 
were  half  ruined,  its  fields  laid  waste,  its  resources  drained, 
its  best  blood  poured  out  in  sacrifice.  The  struggle  now  had 
become  one  of  endurance,  and  while  Liberty  and  Independ 
ence  seemed  as  far  off  as  ever,  men  began  to  appreciate  the 
tremendous  cost  at  which  they  were  to  be  purchased.  The 
capture  of  Burgoyne  had,  after  all,  been  only  a  temporary 
check  to  a  powerful  and  still  unexhausted  enemy.*  Nor 


*  Such  at  least  was  the  opinion  of  Lafayette  (Memoirs,  vol.  i.  pp.  34 
and  35).  A  friend  to  whom  Mr.  Brown  read  this  oration,  pointed  out 
the  fact  that  the  capture  of  Burgoyne' s  army  had  been  considered 
by  all  the  latest  and  most  accurate  historians  as  the  undoubted  turn 
ing-point  of  the  war,  and  that  Creasy  had  included  the  battle  of 
Behmus's  Heights  in  the  fifteen  decisive  battles  of  the  world.  Mr. 
Brown  said  that  although  it  had  undoubtedly  proved  so,  he  felt 


306  VALLEY  FORGE. 

was  its  effect  on  the  Americans  themselves  wholly  beneficial. 
It  had  caused  the  North  to  relax,  in  a  great  measure,  its 
activity  and  vigilance,  and,  combined  with  the  immunity 
from  invasion  which  the  South  had  enjoyed,  "to  lull  asleep 
two-thirds  of  the  continent."  While  a  few  hundred  ill- 
armed,  half-clad  Americans  guarded  the  Highlands  of  the 
Hudson,  a  well-equipped  garrison,  several  thousand  strong, 
lived  in  luxury  in  the  city  of  New  York.*  The  British 
fleet  watched  with  the  eyes  of  Argus  the  rebel  coast. 
Rhode  Island  lay  undisputed  in  their  hands;  Georgia, 
Virginia,  and  the  Carol inas  were  open  to  their  invasion, 
and  as  incapable  of  defence  as  Maryland  had  been  when 
they  landed  in  the  Chesapeake.  Drawn  upon  for  the  army, 
the  sparse  population  could  not  half  till  the  soil,  and  the 
savings  of  laborious  years  had  all  been  spent.  While  the 
miserable  paper  currency  which  Congress,  with  a  fatal  folly 
never  to  be  absent  from  the  counsels  of  men,  continued  to 
issue  and  call  money,  obeyed  natural  rather  than  artificial 
laws  and  fell  four  hundred  per  cent.,  coin  flowed  to  Phila 
delphia  and  New  York,  and  in  spite  of  military  orders  and 
civil  edicts,  the  scanty  produce  of  the  country  followed  it. 
Nor  could  the  threatened  penalty  of  death  restrain  the  evil. 
Want  began  to  be  widely  felt,  and  the  frequent  proclama 
tions  of  the  British,  accompanied  with  Tory  intrigue  and 
abundant  gold,  to  have  effect.  To  some,  even  of  the  wisest, 


that  in  picturing  the  feeling  of  the  day  he  was  justified  in  using  the 
impression  left  on  the  mind  of  so  distinguished  an  actor  as  Lafay 
ette  ;  but  that,  when  the  oration  was  printed,  he  would  add  a  note 
that  would  protect  him  from  any  criticism  prompted  by  the  suppo 
sition,  that  biased  by  local  prejudice,  he  had  spoken  lightly  of  a 
brilliant  event  which  occurred  in  a  neighboring  State,  in  order  to 
give  prominence  to  the  trials  of  Valley  Forge. — ED. 
*  Vide  Lafayette's  Memoirs,  vol.  i.  pp.  34  and  35. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  307 

the  case  was  desperate.  Even  the  elements  seemed  to  com 
bine  against  the  cause.  A  deluge  prevented  a  battle  at  the 
Warren  Tavern ;  a  fog  robbed  Washington  of  victory  at 
Germantown ;  and  at  last,  while  the  fate  of  America  hung 
on  the  courage,  the  fortitude,  and  the  patriotism  of  eleven 
thousand  half-clothed,  half-armed,  hungry  Continentals, 
who,  discomforted  but  not  discouraged,  beaten  but  not  dis 
heartened,  suffering  but  steadfast  still,  lay  on  their  firelocks 
on  the  frozen  ridges  of  Whitemarsh,  a  British  army,  nine 
teen  thousand  five  hundred  strong,  of  veteran  troops,  per 
fectly  equipped,  freshly  recruited  from  Europe,  and  flushed 
with  recent  victory,  marched  into  winter  quarters  in  the 
chief  city  of  the  nation. 

Philadelphia  surely  had  never  seen  such  gloomy  days  as 
those  which  preceded  the  entry  of  the  British.  On  the 
24th  of  August  the  American  army  marched  through  the 
length  of  Front  Street  ;*  on  the  25th  the  British  landed  at 
the  Head  of  Elk.  Days  of  quiet  anxiety  ensued.  On 
the  llth  of  September,  as  Tom  Paine  was  writing  a  letter 
to  Dr.  Franklin,  the  sound  of  cannon  in  the  southwest  in 
terrupted  him.f  From  morning  until  late  in  the  afternoon 
people  in  the  streets  listened  to  the  dull  sound  like  distant 
thunder.};  About  six  o'clock  it  died  away,  and  the  straining 
ear  could  catch  nothing  but  the  soughing  of  the  wind. 
With  what  anxiety  men  waited — with  what  suspense ! 
The  sun  sank  in  the  west,  and  the  shadows  crept  over  the 
little  city.  It  was  the  universal  hour  for  the  evening  meal, 
but  who  could  go  home  to  eat?  Men  gathered  about  the 
State  House  to  talk,  to  conjecture,  to  consult  together,  and 

*  Saffell's  Records  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  p.  333. 

f  Pennsylvania  Magazine,  vol.  ii.  p.  283. 

J  Watson's  Annals  of  Philadelphia,  vol.  ii.  p.  283. 


308  VALLEY  FORGE. 

the  women  whispered  in  little  groups  at  the  doorsteps,  and 
craned  their  necks  out  of  the  darkened  windows  to  look 
nervously  up  and  down  the  street.  About  eight  o'clock 
there  was  a  little  tumult  near  the  Coffee  House.  The  story 
spread  that  Washington  had  gained  a  victory,*  and  a  few 
lads  set  up  a  cheer.  But  it  was  not  traced  to  good  authority, 
and  disappointment  followed.  By  nine  in  the  evening  the 
suspense  was  painful.  Suddenly,  far  up  Chestnut  Street, 
was  heard  the  clatter  of  horses7  feet.  Some  one  was  gal 
loping  hard.  Down  Chestnut  like  an  arrow  came  at  full 
speed  a  single  horseman.  He  had  ridden  fast,  and  his 
horse  was  splashed  with  foam.  Hearts  beat  quickly  as 
he  dashed  by;  past  Sixth  Street,  past  the  State  House, 
past  Fifth,  and  round  the  corner  into  Fourth.  The  crowd 
followed,  and  instantly  packed  around  him  as  he  drew  rein 
at  the  Indian  Queen,  f  He  threw  a  glance  at  the  earnest 
faces  that  were  turned  toward  his,  and  spoke :  "  A  battle 
has  been  fought  at  the  Birmingham  Meeting-House,  on 
the  Brandy  wine ;  the  army  has  been  beaten ;  the  French 
Marquis  Lafayette  shot  through  the  leg.  His  Excellency 
has  fallen  back  to  Chester ;  the  road  below  is  full  of 
stragglers."  And  then  the  crowd  scattered,  each  one  to 
his  home,  but  not  to  sleep.  A  few  days  followed  full  of 
contradictory  stories.  The  armies  are  manoeuvring  on  the 
Lancaster  Road.  Surely  Washington  will  fight  another 
battle.  And  then  the  news  came  and  spread  like  lightning 
— Wayne  has  been  surprised  and  his  brigade  massacred 
at  the  Paoli,  and  the  enemy  are  in  full  march  for  Phila 
delphia  ;  the  Whigs  are  leaving  by  hundreds ;  the  author 
ities  are  going ;  the  Congress  have  gone ;  the  British  have 

*  Irving's  Washington,  vol.  iii.  p.  202. 
f  Watson's  Annals,  vol.  ii.  p.  283. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  309 

arrived  at  Germantown.*     Who  can  forget  the  day  that 
•followed  ? 

A  sense  of  something  dreadful  about  to  happen  hangs 
over  the  town.  A  third  of  the  houses  are  shut  and  empty. 
Shops  are  unopened,  and  busy  rumor  flies  about  the  streets. 
Early  in  the  morning  the  sidewalks  are  filled  with  a  quiet, 
anxious  crowd.  The  women  watch  behind  bowed  windows 
with  half  curious,  half  frightened  looks.  The  men,  solemn 
and  subdued,  whisper  in  groups  :  "Will  they  come  to-day?" 
"  Are  they  here  already  ?"  "  Will  they  treat  us  like  a  con 
quered  people?"  It  was  inevitable  since  the  hot-bloods 
would  have  war.  Sometimes  the  Tory  can  be  detected  by 
an  exultant  look,  but  the  general  sentiment  is  gloomy.^ 
The  morning  drags  along.  By  ten  o'clock  Second  Street 
from  Callowhill  to  Chestnut,  is  filled  with  old  men  and 
boys.  There  is  hardly  a  young  man  to  be  seen.  About 
elevenj  is  heard  the  sound  of  approaching  cavalry,  and  a 
squadron  of  dragoons  comes  galloping  down  the  street, 
scattering  the  boys  right  and  left.  The  crowd  parts  to  let 
them  by,  and  melts  together  again.  In  a  few  minutes  far 
up  the  street  there  is  the  faint  sound  of  martial  music  and 
something  moving  that  glitters  in  the  sunlight.  The  crowd 
thickens,  and  is  full  of  hushed  expectation.  Presently  one 
can  see  a  red  mass  swaying  to  and  fro.  It  becomes  more 
and  more  distinct.  Louder  grows  the  music  and  the. tramp 
of  marching  men,  as  waves  of  scarlet,  tipped  with  steel, 
come  moving  down  the  street.  They  are  now  but  a  square 
off — their  bayonets  glancing  in  perfect  line,  and  steadily 
advancing  to  the  music  of  u  God  Save  the  King."§ 

*  Miller's  Diary,  given  in  Watson's  Annals,  vol.  ii.  p.  68. 
f  Morton's  Diary,  Pennsylvania  Magazine,  vol.  i.  p.  8. 
t  Ibid.,  p.  7. 
\  Reed's  Life  of  Reed,  vol.  i.  p.  315. 


310  VALLEY  FORGE. 

These  are  the  famous  grenadiers.  Their  pointed  caps  of 
red,  fronted  with  silver,  their  white  leather  leggins  and 
short  scarlet  coats,  trimmed  with  blue,  make  a  magnificent 
display.  They  are  perfectly  equipped  and  look  well  fed 
and  hearty.*  Behind  them  are  more  cavalry.  No,  these 
must  be  officers.  The  first  one  is  splendidly  mounted  and 
wears  the  uniform  of  a  general.  He  is  a  stout  man  with 
gray  hair  and  a  pleasant  countenance,  f  in  spite  of  the  squint 
of  an  eye  which  disfigures  it.  A  whisper  goes  through  the 
bystanders:  "It  is  Lord  Cornwallis  himself."  A  brilliant 
staff  in  various  uniforms  follows  him,  and  five  men  in 
civilian's  dress.  A  glance  of  recognition  follows  these  last 
like  a  wave  along  the  street,  for  they  are  Joseph  Galloway, 
Enoch  Story,  Tench  Coxe,  and  the  two  Aliens — father  and 
son — Tories,  who  have  only  dared  to  return  home  behind 
British  bayonets.J  Long  lines  of  red  coats  follow  till  the 
Fourth,  the  Fortieth,  and  the  Fifty-fifth  regiments  have 
passed  by.  But  who  are  these  in  dark  blue  that  come  be 
hind  the  grenadiers?  Breeches  of  yellow  leather,  leggins 
of  black,  and  tall,  pointed  hats  of  brass,  complete  their  uni 
form.  They  wear  moustaches  and  have  a  fierce  foreign 
look,  and  their  unfamiliar  music  seems  to  a  child  in  that 
crowd  to  cry  "  Plunder !  plunder !  plunder !"  as  it  times 
their  rapid  march. §  These  are  the  Hessian  mercenaries 
whom  Washington  surprised  and  thrashed  so  well  at 
Christmas  in  '76.  And  now  Grenadiers  and  Yagers,  horse, 
foot,  and  artillery  that  rumbles  along  making  the  windows 

*  Watson's  Annals,  vol.  ii.  p.  284.  f  Ibid.,  p.  289. 

Jit  has  been  said  that  with  others  Tench  Coxe  went  out  to  meet 
Howe  to  ask  him  to  protect  the  city.  His  conduct,  however,  was 
such  that  lie  was  attainted  of  treason,  and  it  is  also  true  that  he 
surrendered  himself  and  was  acquitted. — ED. 

$  Watson's  Annals,  vol.  ii.  p.  283. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  311 

rattle,  have  all  passed  by.  The  Fifteenth  Regiment  is 
drawn  up  on  High  Street,  near  Fifth ;  the  Forty-second 
Highlanders  in  Chestnut,  below  Third,  and  the  artillery  is 
parked  in  the  State  House  yard.*  All  the  afternoon  the 
streets  are  full — wagons  with  luggage  lumbering  along, 
officers  in  scarlet  riding  to  and  fro,  aids  and  orderlies  seek 
ing  quarters  for  their  different  officers.  Yonder  swarthy, 
haughty-looking  man,  dismounting  at  Norris's  door,  is  my 
Lord  Rawdon.  Lord  Cornwallis  is  quartered  at  Peter 
Reeve's  in  Second,  near  Spruce,  and  Knyphausen  at 
Henry  Lisle's,  nearer  to  Dock  Street,  on  the  east.  The 
younger  officers  are  well  bestowed,  for  Dr.  Frank lin's 
house  has  been  taken  by  a  certain  clever  Captain  Andre,  f 
The  time  for  the  evening  parade  comes,  and  the  well- 
equipped  regiments  are  drawn  up  in  line,  while  slowly  to 
the  strains  of  martial  music  the  sun  sinks  in  autumnal 
splendor  in  the  west.  The  streets  are  soon  in  shadow,  but 
still  noisy  with  the  tramping  of  soldiers  and  the  clatter  of 
arms.  In  High  Street,  and  on  the  commons,  fires  are  lit 
for  the  troops  to  do  their  cooking,  and  the  noises  of  the 
camp  mingle  with  the  city's  hum.  Most  of  the  houses  are 
shut,  but  here  and  there  one  stands  wide  open,  while  bril 
liantly-dressed  officers  lounge  at  the  windows  or  pass  and 
repass  in  the  doorway.  The  sound  of  laughter  and  music 
is  heard  and  the  brightly-lit  windows  of  the  London  Coffee 
House  and  the  Indian  Queen  tell  of  the  parties  that  are 
celebrating  there  the  event  they  think  so  glorious ;  and  thus, 
amid  sounds  of  revelry,  the  night  falls  on  the  Quaker  City. 
In  spite  of  Trenton  and  Princeton  and  Brandy  wine;  in 
spite  of  the  wisdom  of  Congress  and  the  courage  and  skill 
of  the  commander-m-chief;  in  spite  of  the  bravery  and 

*  Watson's  Annals,  vol.  ii.  p.  287.  f  Ibid.,  p.  289. 


312  VALLEY  FORGE. 

fortitude  of  the  Continental  army,  the  forces  of  the  king 
are  in  the  Rebel  capital,  and  the  "all's  well"  of  hostile 
sentinels  keeping  guard  by  her  northern  border  passes 
unchallenged  from  the  Schuylkill  to  the  Delaware. 

What  matters  it  to  Sir  William  Howe  and  his  victorious 
army  if  rebels  be  starving  and  their  ragged  currency  be 
almost  worthless  ?  Here  is  gold  and  plenty  of  good  cheer. 
What,  whether  they  threaten  to  attack  the  British  lines  or 
disperse  through  the  impoverished  country  in  search  of 
food  ?  The  ten  redoubts  that  stretch  from  Fairmount  to 
Cohocsink  Creek  are  stout  and  strongly  manned,  the  river 
is  open,  and  supplies  and  reinforcements  are  on  the  way 
from  England.  What  if  the  earth  be  wrinkled  with  frost? 
The  houses  of  Philadelphia  are  snug  and  warm.  What  if 
the  rigorous  winter  have  begun  and  snow  be  whitening  the 
hills?  Here  are  mirth  and  music,  and  dancing  and  wine, 
and  women  and  play,  and  the  pageants  of  a  riotous  capital ! 
And  so  with  feasting  and  with  revelry  let  the  winter  wear 
away ! 

The  wind  is  cold  and  piercing  on  the  old  Gulf  Road,  and 
the  snow-flakes  have  begun  to  fall.  Who  is  this  that  toils 
up  yonder  hill,  his  footsteps  stained  with  blood  ?  "  His 
bare  feet  peep  through  his  worn-out  shoes,  his  legs  nearly 
naked  from  the  tattered  remains  of  an  only  pair  of  stock 
ings,  his  breeches  not  enough  to  cover  his  nakedness,  his 
shirt  hanging  in  strings,  his  hair  dishevelled,  his  face  wan 
and  thin,  his  look  hungry,  his  whole  appearance  that  of  a 
man  forsaken  and  neglected."*  On  his  shoulder  he  carries 
a  rusty  gun,f  and  the  hand  that  grasps  the  stock  is  blue  with 


*  Diary  of  Albigence  Waldo,  kept  at  Valley  Forge.     Historical 
Magazine,  vol.  v.  p.  131. 

f  Kapp's  Life  of  Steuben,  p.  117. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  313 

cold.  His  comrade  is  no  better  off,  nor  he  who  follows,  for 
both  are  barefoot,  and  the  ruts  of  the  rough  country  road 
are  deep  and  frozen  hard.  A  fourth  comes  into  view,  and 
still  another.  A  dozen  are  in  sight.  Twenty  have  reached 
the  ridge,  and  there  are  more  to  come.  See  them  as  they 
mount  the  hill  that  slopes  eastward  into  the  Great  Valley. 
A  thousand  are  in  sight,  but  they  are  but  the  vanguard  of 
the  motley  company  that  winds  down  the  road  until  it  is 
lost  in  the  cloud  of  snow-flakes  that  have  hidden  the  Gulf 
hills.  Yonder  are  horsemen  in  tattered  uniforms,  and  be 
hind  them  cannon  lumbering  slowly  over  the  frozen  road, 
half  dragged,  half  pushed  by  men.  They  who  appear  to 
be  in  authority  have  coats  of  every  make  and  color.  Here 
is  one  in  a  faded  blue,  faced  with  buckskin  that  has  once 
been  buff.  There  is  another  on  a  tall,  gaunt  horse,  wrapped 
"  in  a  sort  of  dressing-gown  made  of  an  old  blanket  or 
\voollen  bed  cover."*  A  few  of  the  men  wear  long  linen 
hunting  shirts  reaching  to  the  knee,  but  of  the  rest  no  two 
are  dressed  alike — not  half  have  shirts,  a  third  are  barefoot, 
many  are  in  rags.f  Nor  are  their  arms  the  same.  Cow- 
horns  and  tin  boxes  they  carry  for  want  of  pouches.  A 
few  have  swords,  fewer  still  bayonets. J  Muskets,  carbines, 
fowling-pieces,  and  rifles  are  to  be  seen  together  side  by  side. 
Are  these  soldiers  that  huddle  together  and  bow  their 
heads  as  they  face  the  biting  wind  ?  Is  this  an  army  that 
comes  straggling  through  the  valley  in  the  blinding  snow  ? 
No  martial  music  leads  them  in  triumph  into  a  captured 
capital.  No  city  full  of  good  cheer  and  warm  and  comfort 
able  homes  awaits  their  coming.  No  sound  keeps  time  to 
their  steps  save  the  icy  wind  rattling  the  leafless  branches 

*  Kapp's  Life  of  Steuben,  p.  118. 
f  Memoirs  of  Lafayette,  vol.  i.  p.  19. 
%  Life  of  Steuben,  p.  118. 
21 


314  VALLEY  FORGE. 

and  the  dull  tread  of  their  weary  feet  on  the  frozen  ground. 
In  yonder  forest  must  they  find  their  shelter,  and  on  the 
northern  slope  of  these  inhospitable  hills  their  place  of 
refuge.  Perils  shall  soon  assault  them  more  threatening 
than  any  they  encountered  under  the  windows  of  Chew's 
house  or  by  the  banks  of  Brandy  wine.  Trials  that  rarely 
have  failed  to  break  the  fortitude  of  men  await  them  here. 
False  friends  shall  endeavor  to  undermine  their  virtue  and 
secret  enemies  to  shake  their  faith  ;  the  Congress  whom 
they  serve  shall  prove  helpless  to  protect  them,  and  their 
country  herself  seem  unmindful  of  their  sufferings ;  Cold 
shall  share  their  habitations,  and  Hunger  enter  in  and  be 
their  constant  guest ;  Disease  shall  infest  their  huts  by  day, 
and  Famine  stand  guard  with  them  through  the  night;  Frost 
shall  lock  their  camp  with  icy  fetters,  and  the  snows  cover 
it  as  with  a  garment ;  the  storms  of  winter  shall  be  pitiless 
— but  all  in  vain.  Danger  shall  not  frighten  nor  tempta 
tion  have  power  to  seduce  them.  Doubt  shall  not  shake 
their  love  of  country  nor  suffering  overcome  their  fortitude. 
The  powers  of  evil  shall  not  prevail  against  them,  for  they 
are  the  Continental  Army,  and  these  are  the  hills  of  Valley 
Forge ! 

It  is  not  easy  to-day  to  imagine  this  country  as  it  appeared 
a  century  ago.  Yonder  city,  which  now  contains  one-fourth 
as  many  inhabitants  as  were  found  in  those  days  between 
Maine  and  Georgia,  was  a  town  of  but  thirty  thousand  men, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  chief  city  of  the  continent.  The 
richness  of  the  soil  around  it  had  early  attracted  settlers, 
and  the  farmers  of  the  Great  Valley  had  begun  to  make  that 
country  the  garden  which  it  is  to-day ;  but  from  the  top  of 
this  hill  one  could  still  behold  the  wilderness  under  cover 
of  which,  but  twenty  years  before,  the  Indian  had  spread 
havoc  through  the  back  settlements  on  the  Lehigh  and  the 


VALLEY  FORGE.  315 

Susquehanna.  The  most  important  place  between  the  latter 
river  and  the  site  of  Fort  Pitt,  "at  the  junction  of  the 
Ohio,"  was  the  frontier  village  of  York,  where  Congress 
had  taken  refuge.  The  single  road  which  connected  Phila 
delphia  with  the  Western  country  had  been  cut  through  the 
forest  to  Harris's  Block  House  but  forty  years  before.  It 
was  half  a  century  only  since  its  iron  ore  had  led  to  the 
settlement  of  Lancaster,  and  little  more  than  a  quarter  since 
a  single  house  had  marked  the  site  of  Reading.  The  ruins 
of  Colonel  Bull's  plantation,  burned  by  the  British  on  their 
march,  lay  in  solitude  on  the  hills  which  are  covered  to-day 
with  the  roofs  and  spires  of  Norristown  ;*  and  where  yonder 
cloud  hangs  over  the  furnaces  and  foundries  of  Phoenix- 
ville,  a  man  named  Gordon,  living  in  a  cave,  gave  his  name 
to  a  crossing  of  the  river,  f  Nor  was  this  spot  itself  the 
same.  A  few  small  houses  clustered  about  Potts's  Forge, 
where  the  creek  tumbled  into  the  Schuylkill,  and  two  or 
three  near  the  river  bank  marked  the  beginning  of  a  little 
farm.  The  axe  had  cleared  much  of  the  bottom  lands  and 
fertile  fields  of  the  Great  Valley,  but  these  hills  were  still 
wrapped  in  forest  that  covered  their  sides  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  The  roads  that  ascended  their  ridge  on  the 
south  and  east  plunged  into  densest  woods  as  they  climbed 
the  hill,  and  met  beneath  its  shadow  at  the  same  spot  where 
to-day  a  school-house  stands  in  the  midst  of  smiling  fields. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  the  Baron  De  Kalb,  as  he  gazed  on 
the  forest  of  oak  and  chestnut  that  covered  the  sides  and 
summit  of  Mount  Joy,  should  have  described  the  place 
bitterly  as  "  a  wilderness.";]; 

*  Historical  Collections  of  Pennsylvania,  by  Sherman  Day,  p.  499. 

f  Annals  of  Phoenixville,  by  S.  W.  Pennypacker,  p.  174. 

J  Life  of  General  Baron  De  Kalb,  by  Frederick  Kapp,  p.  128. 


316  VALLEY  FORGE. 

But  nevertheless  it  was  well  chosen.  There  was  no  town 
that  would  answer.  Wilmington  and  Trenton  would  have 
afforded  shelter,  but  in  the  one  the  army  would  have  been 
useless,  and  in  the  other  in  constant  danger.  Reading  and 
Lancaster  were  so  distant  that  the  choice  of  either  would 
have  left  a  large  district  open  to  the  enemy,  and  both,  in 
which  were  valuable  stores,  could  be  better  covered  by  an 
army  here.  Equally  distant  with  Philadelphia  from  the 
fords  of  Brandy  wine  and  the  ferry  into  Jersey,  the  army 
could  move  to  either  point  as  rapidly  as  the  British  them 
selves,  and  while  distant  enough  from  the  city  to  be  safe 
from  surprise  or  sudden  attack  itself,  it  could  protect  the 
country  that  lay  between,  and  at  the  same  time  be  a  constant 
menace  to  the  capital.  Strategically,  then,  the  General  could 
not  have  chosen  better.  And  the  place  was  well  adapted 
for  the  purpose.  The  Schuylkill,  flowing  from  the  Blue 
Hills,  bent  here  toward  the  eastward.  Its  current  was 
rapid,  and  its  banks  precipitous.  The  Valley  Creek,  cut 
ting  its  way  through  a  deep  defile  at  right  angles  to  the 
river,  formed  a  natural  boundary  on  the  west.  The  hill 
called  Mount  Joy,  at  the  entrance  of  that  defile,  threw  out 
a  spur  which,  running  parallel  to  the  river  about  a  mile, 
turned  at  length  northward  and  met  its  banks.  On  the  one 
side  this  ridge  enclosed  a  rolling  table  land;  on  the  other  it 
sloped  sharply  to  the  Great  Valley.  The  engineers  under 
Du  Portail  marked  out  a  line  of  entrenchments  four  feet 
high,  protected  by  a  ditch  six  feet  wide,  from  the  entrance  of 
the  Valley  Creek  defile,  along  the  crest  of  this  ridge  until 
it  joined  the  bank  of  the  Schuylkill,  where  a  redoubt  marked 
the  eastern  angle  of  the  encampment.  High  on  the  shoulder 
of  Mount  Joy  a  second  line  girdled  the  mountain,  and  then 
ran  northward  to  the  river,  broken  only  by  the  hollow 
through  which  the  Gulf  Road  descended  to  the  Forge. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  317 

This  hollow  place  was  later  defended  by  an  abattis  and  a 
triangular  earthwork. 

A  redoubt  on  the  east  side  of  Mount  Joy  commanded 
the  Valley  road,  and  another  behind  the  left  flank  of  the 
abattis,  that  which  came  from  the  river,  while  a  star  redoubt 
on  a  hill  at  the  bank  acted  as  a  tete-de-pont  for  the  bridge 
that  was  thrown  across  the  Schuylkill.  Behind  the  front 
and  before  the  second  line  the  troops  were  ordered  to  build 
huts  for  winter  quarters.  Fourteen  feet  by  sixteen,  of  logs 
plastered  with  clay,*  these  huts  began  to  rise  on  every  side. 
Placed  in  rows,  each  brigade  by  itself,  they  soon  gave  the 
camp  the  appearance  of  a  little  city.  All  day  long  the  axe 
resounded  among  the  hills,  and  the  place  was  filled  with  the 
noise  of  hammering  and  the  crash  of  falling  trees.  "  I 
was  there  when  the  army  first  began  to  build  huts,"  wrote 
Paine  to  Franklin.  "  They  appeared  to  me  like  a  family 
of  beavers,  every  one  busy ;  some  carrying  logs,  others 
mud,  and  the  rest  plastering  them  together.  The  whole 
was  raised  in  a  few  days,  and  it  is  a  curious  collection  of 
buildings  in  the  true  rustic  order."f  The  weather  soon 
became  intensely  cold.  The  Schuylkill  froze  over,  and 
the  roads  were  blocked  with  snow,  but  it  was  not  until 
nearly  the  middle  of  January  that  the  last  hut  was  built 
and  the  army  settled  down  into  winter  quarters  on  the  bare 
hillsides.  Long  before  that  its  sufferings  had  begun. 

The  trials  which  have  made  this  place  so  famous  arose 
chiefly  from  the  incapacity  of  Congress.  It  is  true  that 
the  country  in  the  neighborhood  of  Philadelphia  was  well- 
nigh  exhausted.  An  active  campaign  over  a  small  extent 
of  territory  had  drawn  heavily  on  the  resources  of  this  part 

*  Sparks's  Writings  of  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  525. 
f  Pennsylvania  Magazine,  vol.  ii.  p.  294. 


318  VALLEY  FORGE. 

of  Pennsylvania  and  the  adjacent  Jersey.  Both  forces  had 
fed  upon  the  country,  and  it  was  not  so  much  disaffection 
(of  which  Washington  wrote)  as  utter  exhaustion  which 
made  the  farmers  of  the  devastated  region  furnish  so  little 
to  the  army.  Nor  would  it  have  been  human  nature  in 
them  to  have  preferred  the  badly  printed,  often  counter 
feited,  depreciated  promise  to  pay,  of  the  Americans,  for  the 
gold  which  the  British  had  to  offer.  In  spite  of  the  efforts 
of  McLane's  and  Lee's  Light  Horse  and  the  activity  of 
Lacey,  of  the  militia,  the  few  supplies  that  were  left  went 
steadily  to  Philadelphia,  and  the  patriot  army  remained  in 
want.  But  the  more  distant  States,  north  and  south,  could 
easily  have  fed  and  clothed  a  much  more  numerous  army. 
That  they  did  not  was  the  fault  of  Congress.  That  body 
no  longer  contained  the  men  who  had  made  it  famous  in 
the  years  gone  by.  Franklin  was  in  Paris,  where  John 
Adams  was  about  to  join  him.  Jay,  Jefferson,  Rutledge, 
Livingston,  and  Henry  were  employed  at  home.  Hancock 
had  resigned.  Samuel  Adams  was  absent  in  New  England. 
Men  much  their  inferiors  had  taken  theirplaces.* 

The  period,  inevitable  in  the  history  of  revolutions,  had 
arrived,  when  men  of  the  second  rank  came  to  the  front. 
With  the  early  leaders  in  the  struggle  had  disappeared  the 
foresight,  the  breadth  of  view,  the  loftiness  of  purpose,  and 
the  self-sacrificing  spirit  belonging  only  to  great  minds 
which  had  marked  and  honored  the  commencement  of  the 
struggle.  A  smaller  mind  had  begun  to  rule,  a  narrower 
view  to  influence,  a  personal  feeling  to  animate  the  members. f 
Driven  from  Philadelphia,  they  were  in  a  measure  disheart- 

*  P.  S.  Duponceau,  quoted  in  Kapp's  Steuben,  p.  100. 

f  These  views  are  expressed  in  Hamilton's  letter  to  Clinton,  Feb 
ruary  7,  1778.  Vide  History  of  the  Republic  of  the  United  States, 
vol.  i.  p.  422. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  319 

ened,  and  their  pride  touched  in  a  tender  spot.  Incapable 
of  the  loftier  sentiments  which  had  moved  their  predeces 
sors,  they  could  not  overcome  a  sense  of  their  own  impor 
tance  and  the  desire  to  magnify  their  office.  Petty  rivalries 
had  sprung  up  among  them,  and  sectional  feeling,  smothered 
in  '74,  '75,  and  '76,  had  taken  breath  again,  and  asserted 
itself  with  renewed  vigor  in  the  recent  debates  on  the  con 
federation.  But  if  divided  among  themselves  by  petty 
jealousies,  they  were  united  in  a  greater  jealousy  of  Wash 
ington  and  the  army.  They  cannot  be  wholly  blamed  for 
this.  Taught  by  history  no  less  than  by  their  own  experi 
ence,  of  the  dangers  of  standing  armies  in  a  free  State,  and 
wanting  in  modern  history  the  single  example  which  we 
have  in  Washington  of  a  successful  military  chief  retiring 
voluntarily  into  private  life,  they  judged  the  leader  of  their 
forces  by  themselves  and  the  ordinary  rules  of  human  na 
ture.  Their  distrust  was  not  unnatural  nor  wholly  selfish, 
and  must  find  some  justification  in  the  exceptional  greatness 
of  his  character. 

It  was  in  vain  that  he  called  on  them  to  dismiss  their 
doubts  and  trust  an  army  which  had  proved  faithful.*  In 
vain  he  urged  them  to  let  their  patriotism  embrace,  as  his 
had  learned  to  do,  the  whole  country  with  an  equal  fervor. 
In  vain  he  pointed  out  that  want  of  organization  in  the 
army  was  due  to  want  of  union  among  them.  They  con 
tinued  distrustful  and  unconvinced.  In  vain  he  asked  for 
a  single  army,  one  and  homogeneous.  Congress  insisted 
on  thirteen  distinct  armies,  each  under  the  control  of  its 
particular  State.  The  effect  was  disastrous.  The  personnel 
of  the  army  was  continually  changing.  Each  State  had  its 
own  rules,  its  own  system  of  organization,  its  own  plan  of 

*  Sparks's  Writings  of  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  328. 


320  VALLEY  FORGE. 

making  enlistments.  No  two  worked  together — the  men's 
terms  even  expiring  at  the  most  delicate  and  critical  times. 
Promotion  was  irregular  and  uncertain,  and  the  sense  of 
duty  was  impaired  as  that  of  responsibility  grew  less. 
Instead  of  an  organized  army,  Washington  commanded  a 
disorganized  mob.  The  extraordinary  virtues  of  that  great 
man  might  keep  the  men  together,  but  there  were  some 
things  which  they  could  not  do.  Without  an  organized 
quartermaster's  department  the  men  could  not  be  clothed 
or  fed.  At  first  mismanaged,  this  department  became  neg 
lected.  The  warnings  of  Washington  were  disregarded, 
his  appeals  in  vain.  The  troops  began  to  want  clothing 
soon  after  Brandywine.  By  November  it  was  evident  that 
they  must  keep  the  field  without  blankets,  overcoats,  or 
tents.  At  Whitemarsh  they  lay,  half  clad,  on  frozen 
ground.  By  the  middle  of  December  they  were  in  want 
of  the  necessaries  of  life. 

"  We  are  ordered  to  march  over  the  river/7  writes  Dr. 
Waldo,  of  Colonel  Prentice's  Connecticut  Regiment,  at 
Swede's  Ford,  on  December  12.  "  It  snows — I'm  sick —  eat 
nothing — no  whiskey — no  baggage — Lord — Lord — Lord  ! 
.  .  .  Till  sunrise  crossing  the  river,  .  .  .  cold  and  uncom 
fortable."*  "  I'm  sick,"  he  goes  on  two  days  after,  in  his 
diary,  "  discontented  and  out  of  humor.  Poor  food — hard 
lodging — cold  weather  —  fatigued — nasty  clothes — nasty 
cookery  .  .  .  smoked  out  of  my  senses  ...  I  can't  endure  it. 
.  .  .  Here  comes  a  bowl  of  soup, .  .  .  sickish  enough  to  make 
a  Hector  ill.  Away  with  it,  boy — I'll  live  like  the  chame 
leon,  on  air."f  On  the  19th  of  December  they  reached 
Valley  Forge.  By  the  21st  even  such  a  bowl  of  soup  had 
become  a  luxury.  "A  general  cry,"  notes  Waldo  again, 

*  Historical  Magazine,  vol.  v.  p.  131.  f  Ibid. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  321 

"  through  the  camp  this  evening :  .  .  .  '  No  meat,  no  meat/ 
The  distant  vales  echoed  back  the  melancholy  sound :  i  No 
meat,  no  meat/  "*  It  was  literally  true.  On  the  next  day 
Washington  wrote  to  the  President  of  Congress :  "  I  do 
not  know  from  what  cause  this  alarming  deficiency,  or 
rather  total  failure  of  supplies,  arises,  but  unless  more  vig 
orous  exertions  and  better  regulations  take  place  in  that  line 
immediately  this  army  must  dissolve.  I  have  done  all  in 
my  power  by  remonstrating,  by  writing,  by  ordering  the 
commissaries  on  this  head,  from  time  to  time ;  but  without 
any  good  effect,  or  obtaining  more  than  a  present  scanty 
relief.  Owing  to  this  the  march  of  the  army  has  been  de 
layed  on  more  than  one  interesting  occasion  in  the  course  of 
the  present  campaign  ;  and  had  a  body  of  the  enemy  crossed 
the  Schuylkill  this  morning  (as  I  had  reason  to  expect  from 
the  intelligence  I  received  at  four  o'clock  last  night),  the 
divisions  which  I  ordered  to  be  in  readiness  to  march  and 
meet  them  could  not  have  moved."f  Hardly  was  this 
written  when  the  news  did  come  that  the  enemy  had  come 
out  to  Darby,  and  the  troops  were  ordered  under  arms. 
"Fighting,"  responded  General  Huntington  when  he  got 
the  order,  "  will  be  far  preferable  to  starving.  My  brigade 
is  out  of  provisions,  nor  can  the  commissary  obtain  any 
meat."!  "Three  days  successively,"  added  Yarnum,  of 
Rhode  Island,  "  we  have  been  destitute  of  bread,  two  days 
we  have  been  entirely  without  meat."§  It  was  impossible 
to  stir.  And  "this,"  wrote  Washington,  in  indignation, 
brought  forth  the  only  commissary  in  camp,  "  and  with  him 
this  melancholy  and  alarming  truth  that  he  had  not  a  single 

*  Historical  Magazine,  vol.  v.  p.  132. 

f  Sparks- s  Writings  of  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  193. 

I  Ibid.,  foot-note.  $  Ibid.,  foot-note. 


322  VALLEY  FORGE. 

hoof  to  slaughter,  and  not  more  than  twenty-five  barrels  of 
flour."*  "  I  am  now  convinced  beyond  a  doubt  that  unless 
some  great  and  capital  change  suddenly  takes  place  in  that 
line  this  army  must  inevitably  be  reduced  to  one  or  other 
of  these  three  things — starve,  dissolve,  or  disperse,  in  order 
to  obtain  subsistence."! 

But  no  change  was  destined  to  take  place  for  many  suf 
fering  weeks  to  come.  The  cold  grew  more  and  more  in 
tense,  and  provisions  scarcer  every  day.  Soon  all  were  alike 
in  want.  "  The  colonels  were  often  reduced  to  two  rations 
and  sometimes  even  to  one.  The  army  frequently  re 
mained  whole  days  without  provisions/'  is  the  testimony  of 
Lafayette.!  "  We  have  lately  been  in  an  alarming  state  for 
want  of  provisions,"  says  Colonel  Laurens,  on  the  17th  of 
February. §  "  The  army  has  bee,n  in  great  distress  since  you 
left,"  wrote  Greene  to  Knox  nine  days  afterwards ;  "  the 
troops  are  getting  naked.  They  were  seven  days  without 
meat,  and  several  days  without  bread.  .  .  .  We  are  still 
in  danger  of  starving.  Hundreds  of  horses  have  already 
starved  to  death."||  The  painful  testimony  is  full  and  un- 
contradicted.  "Several  brigades,"  wrote  Adjutant-General 
Scammel  to  Timothy  Pickering,  early  in  February,  "  have 
been  without  their  allowance  of  meat.  This  is  the  third 
day."T  "  In  yesterday's  conference  with  the  General,"  said 
the  Committee  of  Congress  sent  to  report,  writing  on  the 
12th  of  February,  "  he  informed  us  that  some  brigades  had 
been  four  days  without  meat,  and  that  even  the  common 
soldiers  had  been  at  his  quarters  to  make  known  their  wants." 

*  Sparks' s  Writings  of  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  197.  t  Ibid. 

J  Memoirs  of  Lafayette,  vol.  i.  p.  35. 

\  Correspondence  of  Col.  John  Laurens,  p.  126. 

||  Life  of  Knox,  by  Drake,  pp.  55-6. 

i  Life  of  Pickering,  vol.  i.  p.  204. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  323 

"  Sliould  the  enemy"  attack  the  camp  successfully,  "  your 
artillery  would  undoubtedly  fall  into  their  hands  for  want 
of  horses  to  remove  it.  But  these  are  smaller  and  tolerable 
evils  when  compared  with  the  imminent  danger  of  your 
troops  perishing  with  famine,  or  dispersing  in  search  of 
food."*  "  For  some  days  past  there  has  been  little  less  than 
a  famine  in  the  camp,"  writes  Washington  to  Clinton ;  "  a 
part  of  the  army  has  been  a  week  without  any  kind  of 
flesh,  and  the  rest  three  or  four  days."f  Famished  for 
want  of  food,  they  were  no  better  off  for  clothes.  "  The  un 
fortunate  soldiers  were  in  want  of  everything.  They  had 
neither  coats,  hats,  shirts,  nor  shoes,"  wrote  the  Marquis 
de  Lafayette.!  "The  men,"  said  Baron  Steuben,  "were 
literally  naked,  some  of  them  in  the  fullest  extent  of  the 
word."§  "  'Tis  a  melancholy  consideration,"  were  the  words 
of  Pickering,  "that  hundreds  of  our  men  are  unfit  for 
duty  only  for  want  of  clothes  and  shoes." ||  Hear  Washing 
ton  himself  on  the  23d  of  December :  "  We  have  (besides 
a  number  of  men  confined  to  hospitals  for  want  of  shoes, 
and  others  in  farm-houses  on  the  same  account),  by  a  field 
return,  this  day  made,  no  less  than  two  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  ninety-eight  men  now  in  camp  unfit  for  duty, 
because  they  are  barefoot,  and  otherwise  naked."lf  "  Our 
numbers,  since  the  4th  instant,  from  the  hardships  and  ex 
posures  they  have  undergone,  (many  having  been  obliged 
for  want  of  blankets  to  sit  up  all  night  by  fires  instead  of 
taking  rest  in  a  natural  and  common  way,)  have  decreased 
two  thousand  men."**  By  the  1st  of  February  that  number 

*  Reed's  Life  of  Reed,  vol.  i.  p.  362. 

f  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  239.  |  Memoirs,  vol.  i.  p.  35. 

$  Kapp's  Life  of  Steuben.  p.  118. 

||  Life  of  Pickering,  vol.  i.  p.  201.  fl  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  199. 

**  Vide  Sparks,  ibid. 


324  VALLEY  FORGE. 

had  grown  to  four  thousand,  and  there  were  fit  for  duty 
but  five  thousand  and  twelve,  or  one-half  the  men  in  camp. 
"  So,"  in  the  words  of  the  Hebrew  prophet,  "  they  labored 
in  the  work,  and  half  of  them  held  the  spears  from  the 
rising  of  the  morning  till  the  stars  appeared." 

Naked  and  starving  in  an  unusually  rigorous  winter,  they 
fell  sick  by  hundreds.  From  want  of  clothes  "  their  feet  and 
legs  froze  till  they  became  black,  and  it  was  often  necessary 
to  amputate  them."*  Through  a  want  of  straw  or  mate 
rials  to  raise  them  from  the  wet  earth  (I  quote  again  from 
the  Committee  of  Congress)  "sickness  and  mortality  have 
spread  through  their  quarters  to  an  astonishing  degree." 
The  smallpox  has  broken  out.  "  Notwithstanding  the  dili 
gence  of  the  physicians  and  surgeons,  of  whom  we  hear  no 
complaint,  the  sick  and  dead  list  has  increased  one-third  in 
the  last  week's  return,  which  was  one-third  greater  than 
the  week  preceding,  and  from  the  present  inclement  weather 
will  probably  increase  in  a  much  greater  proportion.  "f 
Well  might  Washington  exclaim  :  "  Our  sick  naked,  and 
well  naked,  our  unfortunate  men  in  captivity  naked  !"J 
"  Our  difficulties  and  distresses  are  certainly  great,  and 
such  as  wound  the  feelings  of  humanity."§  Nor  was  this 
all.  What  many  had  to  endure  beside,  let  Dr.  Waldo 
tell  :  "  When  the  officer  has  been  fatiguing  through  wet  and 
cold,  and  returns  to  his  tent  to  find  a  letter  from  his  wife 
filled  with  the  most  heart-aching  complaints  a  woman  is 
capable  of  writing,  acquainting  him  with  the  incredible 
difficulty  with  which  she  procures  a  little  bread  for  herself 
and  children  ;  that  her  money  is  of  very  little  consequence 


*  Memoirs  of  Lafayette,  vol.  i.  p.  35. 
f  Reed's  Life  of  Reed,  vol.  i.  p.  361. 
J  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  207.  %  Ibid. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  325 

to  her — concluding  with  expressions  bordering  on  despair 
of  getting  sufficient  food  to  keep  soul  and  body  together 
through  the  winter,  and  begging  him  to  consider  that 
charity  begins  at  home,  and  not  suffer  his  family  to  perish 
with  want  in  the  midst  of  plenty — what  man  is  there  whose 
soul  would  not  shrink  within  him?  Who  would  not  be 
disheartened  from  persevering  in  the  best  of  causes — the 
cause  of  his  country — when  such  discouragements  as  these 
lie  in  his  way,  which  his  country  might  remedy  if  it 
would  ?"* 

Listen  to  his  description  of  the  common  soldier :  "  See 
the  poor  soldier  when  in  health.  With  what  chearfullness 
he  meets  his  foes,  and  encounters  every  hardship  !  If  bare 
foot,  he  labours  thro7  the  Mud  and  Cold  with  a  Song  in  his 
mouth  extolling  W^ar  and  Washington.  If  his  food  be  bad, 
he  eats  it  notwithstanding  with  seeming  content,  blesses 
God  for  a  good  Stomach,  and  Whisles  it  into  digestion.  But 
harkee !  Patience  a  moment !  There  comes  a  Soldier," 
"  and  crys  with  an  air  of  wretchedness  and  dispair :  '  I'm  Sick ; 
my  feet  lame;  my  legs  are  sore;  my  body  covered  with 
this  tormenting  Itch ;  my  Cloaths  are  worn  out ;  my  Consti 
tution  is  broken;  my  former  Activity  is  exhausted  by  fatigue, 
hunger,  and  Cold ;  I  fail  fast ;  I  shall  soon  be  no  more ! 
And  all  the  reward  I  shall  get  will  be,  'Poor  Will  is 
dead !'  "f  And  in  the  midst  of  this  they  persevered ! 
Freezing,  starving,  dying,  rather  than  desert  their  flag  they 
saw  their  loved  ones  suffer,  but  kept  the  faith.  And  the 
American  yeoman  of  the  Revolution  remaining  faithful 
through  that  winter  is  as  splendid  an  example  of  devotion 
to  duty  as  that  which  the  pitying  ashes  of  Vesuvius  have 
preserved  through  eighteen  centuries  in  the  figure  of  the 

*  Historical  Magazine,  vol.  v.  p.  131.  f  Ibid.,  p.  169. 


326  VALLEY  FORGE. 

Eoman  soldier  standing  at  his  post,  unmoved  amid  all  the 
horrors  of  Pompeii.  "  The  Guard  die,  but  never  surren 
der,"  was  the  phrase  invented  for  Cambronne.  "  My  com 
rades  freeze  and  starve,  but  they  never  forsake  me,"  might 
be  put  into  the  mouth  of  Washington. 

"  Naked  and  starving  as  they  are,"  writes  one  of  their 
officers,  we  "  cannot  enough  admire  the  incomparable  pa 
tience  and  fidelity  of  the  soldiery  that  they  have  not  been 
ere  this  excited  by  their  sufferings  to  a  general  mutiny  and 
desertion."*  "  Nothing  can  equal  their  sufferings,"  says  the 
Committee,  "  except  the  patience  and  fortitude  with  which 
they  bear  them."f  Greene's  account  to  Knox  is  touching : 
"  Such  patience  and  moderation  as  they  manifested  under 
their  sufferings  does  the  highest  honor  to  the  magnanimity 
of  the  American  soldiers.  The  seventh  day  they  came  before 
their  superior  officers  and  told  their  sufferings  as  if  they  had 
been  humble  petitioners  for  special  favors.  They  added  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  continue  in  camp  any  longer  with 
out  support."|  In  March  Thomas  Wharton  writes  in  the 
name  of  Pennsylvania:  "The  unparalleled  patience  and 
magnanimity  with  which  the  army  under  your  Excellency's 
command  have  endured  the  hardships  attending  their  situ 
ation,  unsupplied  as  they  have  been  through  an  uncommonly 
severe  winter,  is  an  honor  which  posterity  will  consider  as 
more  illustrious  than  could  have  been  derived  to  them  by  a 
victory  obtained  by  any  sudden  and  vigorous  exertion."§  "  I 
would  cherish  these  dear,  ragged  Continentals,  whose  patience 
will  be  the  admiration  of  future  ages,  and  glory  in  bleeding 


*  Sparks' s  Writings  of  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  239.     • 
f  Heed's  Life  of  Reed,  vol.  i.  p.  361. 
$  Life  of  Greene,  by  Prof.  G.  W.  Greene,  vol.  i.  p.  563. 
$  Correspondence  of  the  Revolution :  Sparks,  vol.  ii.  p.  83. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  327 

with  them,"  cried  John  Laurens  in  the  enthusiasm  of  youth.* 
"  The  patience  and  endurance  of  both  soldiers  and  officers 
was  a  miracle  which  each  moment  served  to  renew,"  said 
Lafayette  in  his  old  age.f  But  the  noblest  tribute  comes 
from  the  pen  of  him  who  knew  them  best :  i(  Without  ar 
rogance  or  the  smallest  deviation  from  truth  it  may  be  said 
that  no  history  now  extant  can  furnish  an  instance  of  an 
army's  suffering  such  uncommon  hardships  as  ours  has  done 
and  bearing  them  with  the  same  patience  and  fortitude.  To 
see  men  without  clothes  to  cover  their  nakedness,  without 
blankets  to  lie  on,  without  shoes  (for  the  want  of  which 
their  marches  might  be  traced  by  the  blood  from  their  feet), 
and  almost  as  often  without  provisions  as  with  them,  march 
ing  through  the  frost  and  snow,  and  at  Christmas  taking  up 
their  winter  quarters  within  a  day's  march  of  the  enemy, 
without  a  house  or  a  hut  to  cover  them  till  they  could  be 
built,  and  submitting  without  a  murmur,  is  a  proof  of  pa 
tience  and  obedience  which  in  my  opinion  can  scarce  be 
paralleled."^  Such  was  Washington's  opinion  of  the  sol 
diers  of  Valley  Forge. 

Americans,  who  have  gathered  on  the  broad  bosom  of 
these  hills  to-day :  if  heroic  deeds  can  consecrate  a  spot  of 
Earth,  if  the  living  be  still  sensible  of  the  example  of  the 
dead,  if  Courage  be  yet  a  commop.  virtue,  and  Patience  in 
Suffering  be  still  honorable  in  your  sight,  if  Freedom  be 
any  longer  precious  and  Faith  in  Humanity  be  not  banished 
from  among  you,  if  Love  of  Country  still  find  a  refuge 
among  the  hearts  of  men,  take  your  shoes  from  off  your 
feet,  for  the  place  on  which  you  stand  is  holy  ground ! 

And  who  are  the  leaders  of  the  men  whose  heroism  can 


*  Correspondence  of  John  Laurens,  p.  136. 

t  Memoirs,  vol.  i.  p.  35.  J  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  329. 


328  VALLEY  FORGE. 

sanctify  a  place  like  this  ?  Descend  the  hill  and  wander 
through  the  camp.  The  weather  is  intensely  cold  and  the 
smoke  hangs  above  the  huts.  On  the  plain  behind  the  front 
line  a  few  general  officers  are  grouped  about  a  squad  whom 
the  new  inspector,  the  German  baron,  is  teaching  some  ma 
noeuvre.  Bodies  of  men  here  and  there  are  dragging  wagons 
up  hill  (for  the  horses  have  starved  to  death)  or  carrying 
fuel  for  fires,  without  which  the  troops  would  freeze.*  The 
huts  are  deserted  save  by  the  sick  or  naked,  and  as  you  pass 
along  the  street  a  poor  fellow  peeps  out  at  the  door  of  one 
and  cries :  "  No  bread,  no  soldier !" 

These  are  the  huts  of  Huntington's  brigade  of  the  Con 
necticut  line;f  next  to  it  those  of  Pennsylvanians  under 
Conway.  This  is  the  Irish-Frenchman  soon  to  disappear 
in  a  disgraceful  intrigue.  Here  in  camp  there  are  many 
who  whisper  that  he  is  a  mere  adventurer,  but  in  Congress 
they  still  think  him  "  a  great  military  character."  Down 
towards  headquarters  are  the  Southerners  commanded  by 
Lachlin  Mclntosh,  in  his  youth  "  the  handsomest  man  in" 
Georgia.  Beyond  Conway,  on  the  hill,  is  Maxwell,  a  gal 
lant  Irishman,  commissioned  by  New  Jersey.  Woodford 
of  Virginia,  commands  on  the  right  of  the  second  line,  and 
in  front  of  him  the  Virginian  Scott.  The  next  brigade  in 
order  are  Pennsylvanian§ — many  of  them  men  whose  homes 
are  in  this  neighborhood — Chester  county  boys  and  Quakers 
from  the  Valley  turned  soldiers  for  their  country's  sake. 
They  are  the  children  of  three  races — the  hot  Irish  blood 
mixes  with  the  colder  Dutch  in  their  calm  English  veins, 
and  some  of  them — their  chief,  for  instance — are  splendid 
fighters.  There  he  is  at  this  moment  riding  up  the  hill 
from  his  quarters  in  the  valley.  A  man  of  medium  height 

*  Reed's  Life  of  Reed,  p.  362. 

f  Map  in  vol.  v.  of  Sparks's  Washington. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  329 

and  strong  frame,  he  sits  his  horse  well  and  with  a  dashing 
air.  His  nose  is  prominent,  his  eye  piercing,  his  complexion 
ruddy,  his  whole  appearance  that  of  a  man  in  splendid 
health  and  flowing  spirits.  He  is  just  the  fellow  to  win  by 
his  headlong  valor  the  nickname  of  "  The  Mad."  But  he 
is  more  than  a  mere  fighter.  Skilful,  energetic,  full  of  re 
sources  and  presence  of  mind,  quick  to  comprehend  and 
prompt  to  act,  of  sound  judgment  and  extraordinary  cour 
age,  he  has  in  him  the  qualities  of  a  great  general,  as  he 
shall  show  many  a  time  in  his  short  life  of  one-and-fifty 
years.  Pennsylvania,  after  her  quiet  fashion,  may  not 
make  as  much  of  his  fame  as  it  deserves,  but  impartial 
history  will  allow  her  none  the  less  the  honor  of  having 
given  its  most  brilliant  soldier  to  the  Revolution  in  her 
Anthony  Wayne.  Poor  of  New  Hampshire,  is  encamped 
next,  and  then  Glover,  whose  regiment  of  Marblehead 
sailors  and  fishermen  manned  the  boats  that  saved  the 
army  on  the  night  of  the  retreat  from  Long  Island. 
Learned,  Patterson,  and  Weedon  follow,  and  then  at  the 
corner  of  the  entrenchments  by  the  river  is  the  Virginian 
brigade  of  Muhlenberg.  Born  at  the  Trappe,  close  by, 
and  educated  abroad,  Muhlenberg  was  a  clergyman  in  Vir 
ginia  when  the  war  came  on,  but  he  has  doffed  his  parson's 
gown  forever  for  the  buff  and  blue  of  a  brigadier.  His 
stalwart  form  and  swarthy  face  are  already  as  familiar  to 
the  enemy  as  they  are  to  his  own  men,  for  the  Hessians  are 
said  to  have  cried,  "  Hier  kommt  Teufel  Pete  !"*  as  they 
saw  him  lead  a  charge  at  Brandy  wine.  The  last  brigade  is 
stationed  on  the  river  bank,  where  Varnum  and  his  Rhode 
Islanders,  in  sympathy  with  young  Laurens,  of  Carolina, 
are  busy  with  a  scheme  to  raise  and  enlist  regiments  of 


*  Greene's  Life  of  Greene,  vol.  i.  p.  452. 
22 


330  VALLEY  FORGE. 

negro  troops.*  These  are  the  commanders  of  brigades.  The 
major-generals  are  seven.  Portly  William  Alexander,  of 
New  Jersey,  who  claims  to  be  the  Earl  of  Stirling,  but  can 
fight  for  a  republic  bravely,  nevertheless;  swarthy  John 
Sullivan,  of  New  Hampshire,  a  little  headstrong,  but  brave 
as  a  lion ;  Steuben,  the  Prussian  martinet,  who  has  just 
come  to  teach  the  army;  DeKalb — self-sacrificing  and 
generous  DeKalb — whose  honest  breast  shall  soon  bear 
eleven  mortal  wounds,  received  in  the  service  of  America; 
Lafayette,  tall,  with  auburn  hair,  the  French  boy  of  twenty 
with  an  old  man's  head,  just  recovering  from  the  wounds  of 
Brandy  wine ;  and  last  and  greatest  of  them  all,  Nathaniel 
Greene,  the  Quaker  blacksmith  from  Rhode  Island,  in  all 
great  qualities  second  only  to  the  Chief  himself.  Yonder 
is  Henry  Knox  of  the  artillery,  as  brave  and  faithful  as  he 
is  big  and  burly ;  and  the  Pole,  Pulaski,  a  man  "  of  hardly 
middle  stature,  of  sharp  countenance  and  lively  air."f  Here 
are  the  Frenchmen,  Du  Portail,  Dubryson,  Duplessis,  and 
Duponceau.  Here  are  Timothy  Pickering  and  Light  Horse 
Harry  Lee,  destined  to  be  famous  in  Senate,  Cabinet,  and 
field.  Here  are  Henry  Dearborn  and  William  Hull,  whose 
paths  in  life  shall  one  day  cross  again,  and  John  Laurens 
and  Tench  Tilghman,  those  models  of  accomplished  man 
hood,  destined  so  soon  to  die  ! 

Does  that  silent  boy  of  twenty,  who  has  just  ridden  by 
with  a  message  from  Lord  Stirling,  imagine  that  one  day 
the  doctrine  which  shall  keep  the  American  continent  free 
from  the  touch  of  European  politics  shall  be  forever  asso 
ciated  with  the  name  of  James  Monroe  ?  Does  yonder  tall, 

*  Correspondence  of  John  Laurens,  p.  108.  Historical  Research 
respecting  Negroes  as  Slaves,  Citizens,  and  as  Soldiers,  Livermore, 
p.  151. 

f  Waldo,  Historical  Magazine,  vol.  v.  p.  171. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  331 

awkward  youth  in  the  Third  Virginia,  who  bore  a  musket 
so  gallantly  at  Brandywine,  dream  as  he  lies  there  shiver 
ing  in  his  little  hut  on  the  slopes  of  Mount  Joy  that  in  the 
not  distant  future  it  is  he  that  shall  build  up  the  jurispru 
dence  of  a  people,  and  after  a  life  of  usefulness  and  honor 
bequeath  to  them  in  the  fame  of  John  Marshall  the  precious 
example  of  a  great  and  upright  Judge  ?  Two  other  youths 
are  here — both  of  small  stature  and  lithe,  active  frame — of 
the  same  rank  and  almost  the  same  age,  whose  ambitious 
eyes  alike  look  forward  already  to  fame  and  power  in  law 
and  politics.  But  not  even  his  own  aspiring  spirit  can  fore 
tell  the  splendid  rise,  the  dizzy  elevation  and  the  sudden 
fall  of  Aaron  Burr — nor  can  the  other  foresee  that  the  time 
will  never  come  when  his  countrymen  will  cease  to  admire 
the  genius  and  lament  the  fate  of  Alexander  Hamilton ! 

And  what  shall  I  say  of  him  who  bears  on  his  heart  the 
weight  of  all  ?  Who  can  measure  the  anxieties  that  afflict 
his  mind  ?  Who  weigh  the  burdens  that  he  has  to  bear  ? 
Who  but  himself  can  ever  know  the  responsibilities  that  rest 
upon  his  soul?  Behold  him  in  yonder  cottage,  his  lamp 
burning  steadily  through  half  the  winter  night,  his  brain 
never  at  rest,  his  hand  always  busy,  his  pen  ever  at  work ; 
now  counselling  with  Greene  how  to  clothe  and  feed  the 
troops,  or  with  Steuben  how  to  reorganize  the  service ;  now 
writing  to  Howe  about  exchanges,  or  to  .Livingston  about 
the  relief  of  prisoners,  or  to  Clinton  about  supplies,  or  to 
Congress  about  enlistments  or  promotions  or  finances  or  the 
French  Alliance;  opposing  foolish  and  rash  counsels  to-day, 
urging  prompt  and  rigorous  policies  to-morrow ;  now  calm 
ing  the  jealousy  of  Congress,  now  soothing  the  wounded 
pride  of  ill-used  officers ;  now  answering  the  complaints  of 
the  civil  authority,  and  now  those  of  the  starving  soldiers, 
whose  sufferings  he  shares,  and  by  his  cheerful  courage 


332  VALLEY  FORGE. 

keeping  up  the  hearts  of  both ;  repressing  the  zeal  of 
friends  to-day,  and  overcoming  with  steadfast  rectitude  the 
intrigues  of  enemies  in  Congress  and  in  camp  to-morrow ; 
bearing  criticism  with  patience,  and  calumny  with  fortitude, 
and,  lest  his  country  should  suifer,  answering  both  only  with 
plans  for  her  defence,  of  which  others  are  to  reap  the  glory; 
guarding  the  long  coast  with  ceaseless  vigilance,  and  watch 
ing  with  sleepless  eye  a  chance  to  strike  the  enemy  in  front 
a  blow ;  a  soldier  subordinating  the  military  to  the  civil 
power ;  a  dictator,  as  mindful  of  the  rights  of  Tories  as  of 
the  wrongs  of  Whigs ;  a  statesman,  commanding  a  revolu 
tionary  army;  a  patriot,  forgetful  of  nothing  but  himself; 
this  is  he  whose  extraordinary  virtues  only  have  kept  the 
army  from  disbanding,  and  saved  his  country's  cause. 
Modest  in  the  midst  of  Pride ;  Wise  in  the  midst  of  Folly ; 
Calm  in  the  midst  of  Passion ;  Cheerful  in  the  midst  of 
Gloom;  Steadfast  among  the  Wavering;  Hopeful  among 
the  Despondent ;  Bold  among  the  Timid ;  Prudent  among 
the  Rash ;  Generous  among  the  Selfish ;  True  among  the 
Faithless ;  Greatest  among  good  men,  and  Best  among  the 
Great — such  was  George  Washington  at  Valley  Forge. 

But  the  darkest  hour  of  night  is  just  before  the  day.  In 
the  middle  of  February  Washington  described  the  dreadful 
situation  of  the  army  and  "  the  miserable  prospects  before 
it"  as  "  more  alarming'7  than  can  possibly  be  conceived,  and 
as  occasioning  him  more  distress  "  than  he  had  felt"*  since 
the  commencement  of  the  war.  On  the  23d  of  February, 
he  whom  we  call  Baron  Steuben,  rode  into  camp;f  on  the 
6th  Franklin  signed  the  Treaty  of  Alliance  at  Versailles. 

Frederick  William  Augustus  Baron  von  Steuben  was  a 
native  of  Magdeburg,  in  Prussia.  Trained  from  early  life 

*  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  239.  f  Kapp's  Life  of  Steuben,  p.  104. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  333 

to  arms,  he  had  been  Aide  to  the  Great  Frederick,  Lieuten- 
ant-General  to  the  Prince  of  Baden,  Grand  Marshal  at  the 
Court  of  one  of  the  Hohenzollerns,  and  a  Canon  of  the 
Church.  A  skilful  soldier,  a  thorough  disciplinarian,  a 
gentleman  of  polished  manners,  a  man  of  warm  and  gener 
ous  heart,  he  had  come  in  the  prime  of  life  and  vigor  to 
offer  his  services  to  the  American  people.  None  could  have 
been  more  needed  or  more  valuable  at  the  time.  Congress 
sent  him  to  the  camp,  Washington  quickly  discerned  his 
worth,  and  in  a  little  time  he  was  made  Major-General  and 
Inspector  of  the  Army.  In  an  instant  there  was  a  change 
in  that  department.  A  discipline  unknown  before  took 
possession  of  the  camp.  Beginning  with  a  picked  company 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty  men,  the  Baron  drilled  them 
carefully,  himself  on  foot  and  musket  in  hand.  These, 
when  they  became  proficient,  he  made  a  model  for  others, 
and  presently  the  whole  camp  had  become  a  military  school. 
Rising  at  three  in  the  morning,  he  smoked  a  single  pipe 
while  his  servant  dressed  his  hair,  drank  one  cup  of  coffee, 
and,  with  his  star  of  knighthood  gleaming  on  his  breast, 
was  on  horseback  at  sunrise,  and,  with  or  without  his  suite, 
galloped  to  the  parade.  There  all  day  he  drilled  the  men, 
and  at  nightfall  galloped  back  to  the  hut  in  which  he  made 
his  quarters,  to  draw  up  regulations  and  draft  instructions 
for  the  inspectors  under  him.*  And  thus  day  after  day, 
patient,  careful,  laborious,  and  persevering,  in  a  few  months 
he  transformed  this  untrained  yeomanry  into  a  disciplined 
and  effective  army.  There  have  been  more  brilliant  ser 
vices  rendered  to  America  than  these,  but  few  perhaps  more 
valuable  and  worthier  of  remembrance.  Knight  of  the 
Order  of  Fidelity,  there  have  been  more  illustrious  names 

*  Kapp's  Life  of  Steuben,  p.  130. 


334  VALLEY  FORGE. 

than  thine  upon  our  lips  to-day.  Like  many  another  who 
labored  for  us,  our  busy  age  has  seemed  to  pass  thee  by. 
But  here,  at  least,  when,  after  a  Century,  Americans  gather 
to  review  their  Country's  history,  shall  they  recall  thy  un 
selfish  services  with  gratitude  and  thy  memory  with  honor ! 
And  surely  at  Valley  Forge  we  must  not  forget  what 
Franklin  was  doing  for  his  country's  cause  in  France.  It 
was  a  happy  thing  for  the  Republican  Idea  that  it  had  a 
distant  continent  for  the  place  of  its  experiment.  It  was  a 
fortunate  thing  for  America  that  between  her  and  her 
nearest  European  neighbor  lay  a  thousand  leagues  of  sea. 
That  distance — a  very  different  matter  from  what  it  is  to 
day — made  it  at  the  same  time  difficult  for  England  to 
overcome  us,  and  safe  for  France  to  lend  us  aid.  From  an 
early  period  this  alliance  seemed  to  have  been  considered  by 
the  Cabinet  of  France.  For  several  years  secret  negotiations 
had  been  going  on,  ^nd  in  the  fall  of  1777  they  became 
open  and  distinct,  and  the  representatives  of  both  nations 
came  face  to  face.  There  was  no  sympathy  between  weak 
and  feeble  Louis  and  his  crafty  Ministers  on  the  one  side 
and  the  representatives  of  Democracy  and  Rebellion  on  the 
other ;  nor  had  France  any  hopes  of  regaining  her  foothold 
on  this  Continent.  The  desire  of  her  rulers  was  simply  to 
humiliate  and  injure  England,  and  the  revolution  in  Amer 
ica  seemed  to  offer  the  chance.  Doubtless  they  were  influ 
enced  by  the  fact  that  the  cause  of  America  had  become 
very  popular  with  all  classes  of  the  French  people,  im 
pressed  to  a  remarkable  degree  with  the  character  of  Dr. 
Franklin,  and  stirred  by  the  contagious  and  generous  ex 
ample  of  Lafayette.  Nor  was  this  popular  feeling  merely 
temporary  or  without  foundation.  Long  familiar  as  he 
had  been  with  despotism  in  both  politics  and  religion,  the 
Frenchman  still  retained  within  him  a  certain  spirit  of 


VALLEY  FORGE,  335 

liberty  which  was  stronger  than  he  knew.  His  sympathies 
naturally  went  out  toward  a  distant  people  engaged  in  a 
gallant  struggle  against  his  hereditary  enemies,  the  English; 
but  besides  all  that,  there  was  in  his  heart  something,  lie 
hardly  knew  what,  that  vibrated  at  the  thought  of  a  free 
dom  for  others  which  he  had  hardly  dreamed  of  and  never 
known.  Little  did  he  or  any  of  his  rulers  foresee  what 
that  something  was.  Little  did  France  imagine,  as  she 
blew  into  a  flame  the  spark  of  Liberty  beyond  the  sea,  that 
there  was  that  within  her  own  dominions  which  in  eleven 
years,  catching  the  divine  fire  from  the  glowing  West, 
would  set  herself  and  Europe  in  a  blaze !  Accordingly, 
after  much  doubt,  delay,  and  intrigue,  during  which  Frank 
lin  bore  himself  with  rare  ability  and  tact,  Treaties  of  Amity, 
Commerce,  and  Alliance  were  prepared  and  signed.  The 
Independence  of  America  was  acknowledged  and  made  the 
basis  of  alliance,  and  it  was  mutually  agreed  that  neither 
nation  should  lay  down  its  arms  until  England  had  con 
ceded  it.  A  fleet,  an  army,  and  munitions  were  promised 
by  the  King,  and,  as  a  consequence,  war  was  at  once  declared 
against  Great  Britain. 

We  are  accustomed  to  regard  this  as  the  turning-point  in 
the  Revolutionary  struggle.  And  so  it  was.  But  neither 
the  fleet  of  France  nor  her  armies,  gallant  as  they  were,  nor 
the  supplies  and  means  with  which  she  furnished  us,  were 
as  valuable  to  the  cause  of  the  struggling  country  as  the 
moral  effect,  at  home  as  well  as  abroad,  of  the  Alliance. 
Hopes  that  were  built  upon  the  skill  of  French  sailors 
were  soon  dispelled,  the  expectations  of  large  contingent 
armies  were  not  to  be  fulfilled,  but  the  news  of  the  French 
Alliance  carried  into  every  patriotic  heart  an  assurance  that 
never  left  it  afterward  and  kept  aroused  a  spirit  that  hence 
forward  grew  stronger  every  year.  Says  the  historian 


336  VALLEY  FORGE. 

Bancroft :  "  The  benefit  then  conferred  on  the  United 
States  was  priceless."  And  "  so  the  flags  of  France  and 
the  United  States  went  together  into  the  field  against  Great 
Britain,  unsupported  by  any  other  government,  yet  with  the 
good  wishes  of  all  the  peoples  of  Europe."*  And  thus 
illustrious  Franklin,  the  Philadelphia  printer,  earned  the 
magnificent  compliment  that  was  paid  him  in  the  French 
Academy:  "Eripuit  fill  men  crelo,  sceptrumque  tyrannis." 

And  all  the  while,  unconscious  of  the  event,  the  winter 
days  at  Valley  Forge  dragged  by,  one  after  another,  with 
sleet  and  slush  and  snow,  with  storms  of  wind,  and  ice  and 
beating  rain.  The  light-horse  scoured  the  country,  the 
pickets  watched,  the  sentinels  paced  up  and  down,  the  men 
drilled  and  practised,  and  starved  and  froze  and  suffered, 
and  at  last  the  spring-time  came,  and  with  it  stirring  news. 
Greene  was  appointed  Quartermaster-General  on  the  23d 
of  March,  and  under  his  skilful  management  relief  and 
succor  came.  The  Conciliatory  Bills,  offering  all  but  inde 
pendence,  were  received  in  April,  and  instantly  rejected  by 
Congress,  under  the  stirring  influence  of  a  letter  from 
Washington,  declaring  with  earnestness  that  "nothing  short 
of  independence  would  do,"  and  at  last,  on  the  4th  of  May, 
at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  the  news  of  the  French  treaty 
reached  the  Head-Quarters. 

On  the  6th,  by  general  orders,  the  army,  after  appropriate 
religious  services,  was  drawn  up  under  arms,  salutes  were 
fired  with  cannon  and  musketry,  cheers  given  by  the  sol 
diers  for  the  King  of  France  and  the  American  States,  and 
a  banquet  by  the  General-in-Chief  to  all  the  officers,  in  the 
open  air,  completed  a  day  devoted  to  rejoicing,  f  "  And  all 

*  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  ix.  pp.  505-6. 
f  Correspondence  of  John  Laurens,  p.  169. 


VALLEY  FORGE.  337 

the  while,"  says  the  English  satirist,  "  Howe  left  the  famous 
camp  of  Valley  Forge  untouched,  whilst  his  great,  brave, 
and  perfectly  appointed  army,  fiddled  and  gambled  and 
feasted  in  Philadelphia.  And  by  Byng's  countrymen 
triumphal  arches  were  erected,  tournaments  were  held  in 
pleasant  mockery  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  wreaths  and" 
garlands  offered  by  beautiful  ladies  to  this  clement  chief, 
with  fantastical  mottoes  and  poesies  announcing  that  his 
laurels  should  be  immortal."*  On  the  18th  of  May  (the 
day  of  that  famous  festivity)  Lafayette  took  post  at  Barren 
Hill,  from  which  he  escaped  so  brilliantly  two  days  after 
wards.  At  last,  on  the  18th  of  June,  George  Roberts,  f  of 
Philadelphia,  came  galloping  up  the  Gulf  Road  covered 
with  dust  and  sweat,  with  the  news  that  the  British  had 
evacuated  Philadelphia.  Six  brigades  were  at  once  in 
motion — the  rest  of  the  army  prepared  to  follow  with  all 
possible  despatch  early  on  the  19th.  The  bridge  across  the 
Schuylkill  was  laden  with  tramping  troops.  Cannon  rum 
bled  rapidly  down  the  road  to  the  river.  The  scanty  bag 
gage  was  packed,  the  flag  at  Head-Quarters  taken  down,  the 
last  brigade  descended  the  river  bank,  the  huts  were  empty, 
the  breastworks  deserted,  the  army  was  off  for  Monmouth, 
and  the  hills  of  Valley  Forge  were  left  alone  with  their 
glory  and  their  dead.  The  last  foreign  foe  had  left  the  soil 
of  Pennsylvania  forever.  Yes,  the  last  foreign  foe !  Who 
could  foretell  the  mysteries  of  the  future  ?  .  Who  foresee 
the  trials  that  were  yet  to  come  ?  Little  did  the  sons  of 
New  England  and  the  South,  who  starved  and  froze  and 
died  here  in  the  snow  together,  think,  as  their  eyes  beheld 
for  the  last  time  the  little  flag  that  meant  for  them  a  com- 


*  Thackeray's  Virginians,  chap.  xci. 

f  Sparks's  Writings  of  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  409. 


338  VALLEY  FORGE. 

mon  country,  that  the  time  would  come  when,  amid  sound 
of  cannon,  their  children,  met  again  on  Pennsylvania  soil, 
would  confront  each  other  in  the  splendid  agony  of  battle ! 
Sorrow  was  their  portion,  but  it  was  not  given  them  to 
suffer  this.  It  was  theirs  to  die  in  the  gloomiest  period  of 
their  country's  history,  but  certain  that  her  salvation  was 
assured.  It  was  theirs  to  go  down  into  the  grave  rejoicing 
in  the  belief  that  their  lives  were  sacrifice  enough,  blessedly 
unconscious  that  the  Liberty  for  which  they  struggled  de 
manded  that  three  hundred  thousand  of  their  children 
should  with  equal  courage  and  devotion  lay  down  their 
lives  in  its  defence.  Happy  alike  they  who  died  before 
that  time  and  we  who  have  survived  it !  And,  thank  God 
this  day,  that  its  shadow  has  passed  away  forever.  The 
sins  of  the  fathers,  visited  upon  the  children,  have  been 
washed  away  in  blood — the  sacrifice  has  been  accepted — 
the  expiation  has  been  complete.  The  men  of  North  and 
South  whose  bones  moulder  on  these  historic  hillsides  did 
not  die  in  vain.  The  institutions  which  they  gave  us  we 
preserve — the  Freedom  for  which  they  fought  is  still  our 
birthright — the  flag  under  which  they  died  floats  above  our 
heads  on  this  anniversary,  the  emblem  of  a  redeemed,  re 
generate,  reunited  country.  The  union  of  those  States  still 
stands  secure.  Enemies  within  and  foes  without  have  failed 
to  break  it,  and  the  spirit  of  faction,  from  whatever  quarter 
or  in  whatever  cause,  can  no  more  burst  its  holy  bonds 
asunder,  than  can  we  separate  in  this  sacred  soil  the  dust  of 
MassachusettvS  and  that  of  Carolina  from  that  Pennsylvania 
dust  in  whose  embrace  it  has  slumbered  for  a  century,  and 
with  which  it  must  forever  be  indistinguishably  mingled  ! 

Such,  then,  is  the  history  of  this  famous  place.  To  my 
mind  it  has  a  glory  all  its  own !  The  actions  which  have 
made  it  famous  stand  by  themselves.  It  is  not  simply 


VALLEY  FORGE.  339 

because  they  were  heroic.  Brave  deeds  have  sanctified  innu 
merable  places  in  every  land.  The  men  of  our  revolution 
were  not  more  brave  than  their  French  allies,  or  their  Ger 
man  cousins,  or  their  English  brethren.  Courage  belongs 
alike  to  all  men.  Nor  were  they  the  only  men  in  history 
who  suffered.  Others  have  borne  trial  as  bravely,  endured 
with  the  same  patience,  died  with  as  perfect  a  devotion.  But 
it  is  not  given  to  all  men  to  die  in  the  best  of  causes  or  win 
the  greatest  victories.  It  was  the  rare  fortune  of  those  who 
were  assembled  here  a  hundred  years  ago  that,  having  in 
their  keeping  the  most  momentous  things  that  were  ever 
intrusted  to  a  people,  they  were  at  once  both  faithful  and 
victorious.  The  army  that  was  encamped  here  was  but  a 
handful,  but  what  host  ever  defended  so  much?  And  what 
spot  of  Earth  has  had  a  farther  reaching  and  happier  influ 
ence  on  the  Human  Race  than  this  ? 

Is  it  that  which  the  traveller  beholds  when  from  Pen- 
telicus  he  looks  down  on  Marathon?  The  life  of  Athens  was 
short,  and  the  Liberty  which  was  saved  on  that  immortal 
field  she  gave  up  ingloriously  more  than  twenty  centuries 
ago.  The  tyranny  she  resisted  so  gallantly  from  without, 
she  practised  cruelly  at  home.  The  sword  which  she 
wielded  so  well  in  her  own  defence  she  turned  as  readily 
against  her  children.  Her  civilization,  brilliant  as  it  was, 
was  narrow  and  her  spirit  selfish.  The  boundaries  of  her 
tiny  state  were  larger  than  her  heart,  whose  sympathy 
could  not  include  more  than  a  part  of  her  own  kindred. 
Her  aspirations  were  pent  up  in  herself,  and  she  stands  in 
history  to-day  a  prodigy  of  short-lived  splendor — a  warning 
rather  than  example. 

Is  it  any  one  of  those,  where  the  men  of  the  Forest  Can 
tons  fell  on  the  invader  like  an  avalanche  from  their  native 
Alps  and  crushed  him  out  of  existence?  The  bravery  of 


340  VALLEY  FORGE. 

the  Swiss  achieved  only  a  sterile  independence,  which  his 
native  mountains  defended  as  well  as  he,  and  he  tarnished 
his  glory  forever  when  the  sword  of  Morgarten  was  hawked 
about  the  courts  of  Europe,  and  the  victor  of  Grandson  and 
Morat  sold  himself  to  the  foreign  shambles  of  the  highest 
bidder. 

Or  is  it  that  still  more  famous  field,  where  the  Belgian 
lion  keeps  guard  over  the  dead  of  three  great  nations? 
There,  three  and  sixty  years  ago  yesterday,  the  armies  of 
Europe  met  in  conflict.  It  was  the  war  of  giants.  On  the 
one  side  England,  the  first  power  of  the  age,  flushed  with 
victory,  of  inexhaustible  resources,  redoubtable  by  land 
and  invincible  by  sea;  and  Prussia,  vigorous  by  nature, 
stronger  by  adversity,  hardened  by  suifering,  full  of  bitter 
memories  and  hungry  for  revenge;  and,  on  the  other,  France, 
once  mistress  of  the  Continent,  the  arbiter  of  nations,  the 
conqueror  of  Wagram  and  Marengo  and  Fried  land  and 
Austerlitz — spent  at  last  in  her  own  service,  crushed  rather 
by  the  weight  of  her  victories  than  by  the  power  of  her  ene 
mies'  arm — turning  in  her  bloody  footsteps,  like  a  wounded 
lion,  to  spring  with  redoubled  fury  at  the  throat  of  her 
pursuers.  Behold  the  conflict  as  it  raged  through  the  long 
June  day,  while  all  the  world  listened  and  held  its  breatli  ! 

The  long  lines  of  red,  the  advancing  columns  of  blue, 
the  glitter  of  burnished  steel,  the  roll  of  drums,  the  clangor 
of  trumpets,  the  cheering  of  men,  the  fierce  attack,  the  stub 
born  resistance,  the  slow  recoil,  the  rattle  of  musketry,  the 
renewed  assault,  the  crash  of  arms,  the  roar  of  cannons,  the 
clatter  of  the  charging  cavalry,  the  cries  of  the  combatants, 
the  clash  of  sabres,  the  shrieks  of  the  dying,  the  confused 
retreat,  the  gallant  rally,  the  final  charge,  the  sickening  re 
pulse,  the  last  struggle,  the  shouts  of  the  victors,  the  screams 
of  the  vanquished,  the  wild  confusion,  the  blinding  smoke, 


VALLEY  FORGE.  341 

the  awful  uproar,  the  unspeakable  rout,  the  furious  pursuit, 
the  sounds  dying  in  the  distance,  the  groans  of  the  wounded, 
the  fall  of  the  summer  rain,  the  sighing  of  the  evening 
breeze,  the  solemn  silence  of  the  night.  Climb  the  steps 
that  lead  to  the  summit  of  the  mound  that  marks  that  place 
to-day.  There  is  no  spot  in  Europe  more  famous  than  the 
field  beneath  your  feet.  In  outward  aspect  it  is  not  unlike 
this  which  we  behold  here.  The  hills  are  not  so  high  nor 
the  valleys  so  deep,  but  the  general  effect  of  field  and  farm, 
of  ripening  grain  and  emerald  woodland,  is  much  the  same. 
It  has  not  been  changed.  There  is  the  chateau  of  Hougo- 
mont  on  the  west  and  the  forest  through  which  the  Prus 
sians  came  on  the  east ;  on  yonder  hill  the  Emperor  watched 
the  battle  ;  beneath  yon  Ney  made  the  last  of  many  charges 
—the  world  knows  it  all  by  heart.  The  traveller  of  every 
race  turns  toward  it  his  footsteps.  It  is  the  most  celebrated 
battle-field  of  Europe  and  of  modern  times. 

But  what  did  that  great  victory  accomplish  ?  It  broke 
the  power  of  one  nation  and  asserted  the  independence  of 
the  rest.  It  took  from  France  an  Emperor  and  gave  her 
back  a  King,  a  ruler  whom  she  had  rejected  in  place  of  one 
whom  she  had  chosen,  a  Bourbon  for  a  Bonaparte,  a  King 
by  divine  right  for  an  Emperor  by  the  people's  will.  It 
revenged  the  memory  of  Jena  and  Corunna,  and  broke  the 
spell  that  made  the  fated  name  Napoleon  the  bond  of  an 
empire  almost  universal ;  it  struck  down  one  great  man  and 
fixed  a  dozen  small  ones  on  the  neck  of  Europe.  But  what 
did  it  bequeath  to  us  besides  the  ever-precious  example  of 
heroic  deeds?  Nothing.  What  did  they  who  conquered 
there  achieve?  Fame  for  themselves,  Woe  for  the  van 
quished,  Glory  for  England,  Revenge  for  Prussia,  Shame 
for  France,  nothing  for  Humanity,  nothing  for  Liberty. 
Nothing  for  Civilization,  nothing  for  the  Eights  of  Man. 


342  VALLEY  FORGE. 

One  of  the  great  Englishmen  of  that  day  declared  that  it 
had  turned  back  the  hands  of  the  dial  of  the  World's 
progress  for  fifty  years.  And,  said  an  English  poetess : — 

"  The  Kings  crept  out  again  to  feel  the  sun. 

The  Kings  crept  out — the  peoples  sat  at  home, 

And  finding  the  long  invocated  peace 

A  pall  embroidered  with  worn  images 

Of  rights  divine,  too  scant  to  cover  doom 

Such  as  they  suffered, — curst  the  corn  that  grew 

Rankly,  to  bitter  bread,  on  Waterloo." 

My  countrymen :  For  a  century  the  eyes  of  struggling 
nations  have  turned  toward  this  spot,  and  lips  in  every  lan 
guage  have  blessed  the  memory  of  Valley  Forge!  The 
tide  of  battle  never  ebbed  and  flowed  upon  these  banks. 
These  hills  never  trembled  beneath  the  tread  of  charging 
squadrons  nor  echoed  the  thunders  of  contending  can 
non.  The  blood  that  stained  this  ground  did  not  rush 
forth  in  the  joyous  frenzy  of  the  fight;  it  fell  drop  by  drop 
from  the  heart  of  a  suffering  people.  They  who  once  en 
camped  here  in  the  snow  fought  not  for  conquest,  not  for 
power,  not  for  glory,  not  for  their  country  only,  not  for 
themselves  alone.  They  served  here  for  Posterity;  they 
suffered  here  for  the  Human  Race ;  they  bore  here  the  cross 
of  all  the  peoples ;  they  died  here  that  Freedom  might  be 
the  heritage  of  all.  It  was  Humanity  which  they  defended ; 
it  was  Liberty  herself  that  they  had  in  keeping.  She  that 
was  sought  in  the  wilderness  and  mourned  for  by  the 
waters  of  Babylon — that  was  saved  at  Salamis  and  thrown 
away  at  Chseronea ;  that  was  fought  for  at  Cannse  and  lost 
forever  at  Pharsalia  and  Philippi — she  who  confronted  the 
Armada  on  the  deck  with  Howard  and  rode  beside  Crom 
well  on  the  field  of  Worcester — for  whom  the  Swiss  gath- 


VALLEY  FORGE.  343 

ered  into  his  breast  the  sheaf  of  spears  at  Sempach,  and  the 
Dutchman  broke  the  dykes  of  Holland  and  welcomed  in 
the  sea — she  of  whom  Socrates  spoke,  and  Plato  wrote,  and 
Brutus  dreamed  and  Homer  sung — for  whom  Eliot  pleaded, 
and  Sydney  suffered,  and  Milton  prayed,  and  Hampden 
fell !  Driven  by  the  persecution  of  centuries  from  the 
older  world,  she  had  come  with  Pilgrim  and  Puritan,  and 
Cavalier  and  Quaker,  to  seek  a  shelter  in  the  new.  At 
tacked  once  more  by  her  old  enemies,  she  had  taken  refuge 
here.  Nor  she  alone.  The  dream  of  the  Greek,  the  He 
brew's  prophecy,  the  desire  of  the  Roman,  the  Italian's 
prayer,  the  longing  of  the  German  mind,  the  hope  of  the 
French  heart,  the  glory  and  honor  of  Old  England  herself, 
the  yearning  of  all  the  centuries,  the  aspiration  of  every 
age,  the  promise  of  the  Past,  the  fulfilment  of  the  Future, 
the  seed  of  the  old  time,  the  harvest  of  the  new — all  these 
were  with  her.  And  here,  in  the  heart  of  America,  they 
were  safe.  The  last  of  many  struggles  was  almost  won  ; 
the  best  of  many  centuries  was  about  to  break ;  the  time 
was  already  come  when  from  these  shores  the  light  of  a 
new  Civilization  should  flash  across  the  sea,  and  from  this 
place  a  voice  of  triumph  make  the  Old  World  tremble, 
when  from  her  chosen  refuge  in  the  West  the  spirit  of 
Liberty  should  go  forth  to  meet  the  Rising  Sun  and  set 
the  people  free ! 

Americans :  A  hundred  years  have  passed  away  and  that 
Civilization  and  that  Liberty  are  still  your  heritage.  But 
think  not  that  such  an  inheritance  can  be  kept  safe  without 
exertion.  It  is  the  burden  of  your  Happiness,  that  with  it 
Privilege  and  Duty  go  hand  in  hand  together.  You  cannot 
shirk  the  Present  and  enjoy  in  the  Future  the  blessings  of 
the  Past.  Yesterday  begot  To-day,  and  To-day  is  the  parent 
of  To-morrow.  The  Old  Time  may  be  secure,  but  the  New 


344  VALLEY  FORGE. 

Time  is  uncertain.  The  dead  are  safe ;  it  is  the  privilege  of 
the  living  to  be  in  peril.  A  country  is  benefited  by  great 
actions  only  so  long  as  her  children  are  able  to  repeat  them. 
The  memory  of  this  spot  shall  be  an  everlasting  honor  for 
our  fathers,  but  we  can  make  it  an  eternal  shame  for  our 
selves  if  we  choose  to  do  so.  The  glory  of  Lexington  and 
Bunker  Hill  and  Saratoga  and  Valley  Forge  belongs  not 
to  you  and  me,  but  we  can  make  it  ours  if  we  will.  It  is 
well  for  us  to  keep  these  anniversaries  of  great  events.  It 
is  well  for  us  to  meet  by  thousands  on  these  historic  spots. 
It  is  well  to  walk  by  those  unknown  graves  or  follow  the 
windings  of  the  breastworks  that  encircle  yonder  hill.  It 
is  well  for  us  to  gather  beneath  yon  little  fort,  which  the 
storms  of  so  many  winters  have  tenderly  spared  to  look 
down  on  us  to-day.  It  is  well  to  commemorate  the  past 
with  song  and  eulogy  and  pleasant  festival — but  it  is  not 
enough. 

If  they  could  return,  whose  forms  have  been  passing  in 
imagination  before  our  eyes ;  if  in  the  presence  of  this  holy 
hour  the  dead  could  rise  and  lips  dumb  for  a  century  find 
again  a  tongue,  might  they  not  say  to  us :  You  do  well, 
Countrymen,  to  commemorate  this  time.  You  do  well  to 
honor  those  who  yielded  up  their  lives  in  glory  here. 
Theirs  was  a  perfect  sacrifice,  and  the  debt  you  owe  them 
you  can  never  pay.  Your  lines  have  fallen  in  a  happier 
time.  The  boundaries  of  your  Union  stretch  from  sea  to 
sea.  You  enjoy  all  the  blessings  which  Providence  can  be 
stow  ;  a  peace  we  never  knew ;  a  wealth  we  never  hoped 
for;  a  power  of  which  we  never  dreamed.  Yet  think  not 
that  these  things  only  can  make  a  nation  great.  We  laid 
the  foundations  of  your  happiness  in  a  time  of  trouble,  in 
days  of  sorrow  and  perplexity,  of  doubt,  distress,  and  dan 
ger,  of  cold  and  hunger,  of  suffering  and  want.  We  built 


VALLEY  FORGE.  345 

it  up  by  virtue,  by  courage,  by  self-sacrifice,  by  unfailing 
patriotism,  by  unceasing  vigilance.  By  those  things  alone 
did  we  win  your  liberties ;  by  them  only  can  you  hope  to 
keep  them.  Do  you  revere  our  names  ?  Then  follow  our 
example.  Are  you  proud  of  our  achievements  ?  Then  try 
to  imitate  them.  Do  you  honor  our  memories  ?  Then  do  as 
we  have  done.  You  yourselves  owe  something  to  America, 
better  than  all  those  things  which  you  spread  before  her  with 
such  lavish  hand — something  which  she  needs  as  much  in 
her  prosperity  to-day,  as  ever  in  the  sharpest  crisis  of  her 
fate !  For  you  have  duties  to  perform  as  well  as  we.  It 
was  ours  to  create ;  it  is  yours  to  preserve.  It  was  ours  to 
found  ;  it  is  yours  to  perpetuate.  It  was  ours  to  organize; 
it  is  yours  to  purify  !  And  what  nobler  spectacle  can  you 
present  to  mankind  to-day,  than  that  of  a  people  honest, 
steadfast,  and  secure — mindful  of  the  lessons  of  experience 
— true  to  the  teachings  of  history — led  by  the  loftiest  ex-, 
amples  and  bound  together  to  protect  their  institutions  at 
the  close  of  the  Century,  as  their  fathers  were  to  win  them 
at  the  beginning,  by  the  ties  of  "  Virtue,  Honor,  and  Love 
of  Country" — by  that  Virtue  which  makes  perfect  the 
happiness  of  a  people — by  that  Honor  wrhich  constitutes 
the  chief  greatness  of  a  State — by  that  Patriotism  which 
survives  all  things,  braves  all  things,  endures  all  things, 
achieves  all  things — and  which,  though  it  find  a  refuge  no 
where  else,  should  live  in  the  heart  of  every  true  American! 
My  Countrymen :  the  century  that  has  gone  by  has 
changed  the  face  of  Nature  and  wrought  a  revolution  in 
the  habits  of  mankind.  We  to-day  behold  the  dawn  of 
an  extraordinary  age.  Freed  from  the  chains  of  ancient 
thought  and  superstition,  man  has  begun  to  win  the  most 
extraordinary  victories  in  the  domain  of  Science.  One  by 
one  he  has  dispelled  the  doubts  of  the  ancient  world. 

23 


346  VALLEY  FORGE. 

Nothing  is  too  difficult  for  his  hand  to  attempt — no  region 
too  remote — no  place  too  sacred  for  his  daring  eye  to  pene 
trate.  He  has  robbed  the  Earth  of  her  secrets  and  sought 
to  solve  the  mysteries  of  the  Heavens !  He  has  secured  and 
chained  to  his  service  the  elemental  forces  of  Nature — he 
has  made  the  fire  his  steed — the  winds  his  ministers — the 
seas  his  pathway — the  lightning  his  messenger.  He  has 
descended  into  the  bowels  of  the  Earth  and  walked  in 
safety  on  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  He  has  raised  his  head 
above  the  clouds  and  made  the  impalpable  air  his  resting- 
place.  He  has  tried  to  analyze  the  stars,  count  the  constel 
lations,  and  weigh  the  Sun.  He  has  advanced  with  such 
astounding  speed  that,  breathless,  we  have  reached  a  mo 
ment  when  it  seems  as  if  distance  had  been  annihilated, 
time  made  as  naught,  the  invisible  seen,  the  inaudible 
heard,  the  unspeakable  spoken,  the  intangible  felt,  the  im 
possible  accomplished.  And  already  we  knock  at  the  door 
of  a  new  century  which  promises  to  be  infinitely  brighter 
and  more  enlightened  and  happier  than  this.  But  in  all 
this  blaze  of  light  which  illuminates  the  present  and  casts 
its  reflection  into  the  distant  recesses  of  the  past,  there  is 
not  a  single  ray  that  shoots  into  the  Future.  Not  one  step 
have  we  taken  toward  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  Life. 
That  remains  to-day  as  dark  and  unfathomable  as  it  was 
ten  thousand  years  ago. 

We  know  that  we  are  more  fortunate  than  our  fathers. 
We  believe  that  our  children  shall  be  happier  than  we.  We 
know  that  this  century  is  more  enlightened  than  the  last. 
We  hope  that  the  time  to  come  will  be  better  and  more 
glorious  than  this.  We  think,  we  believe,  we  hope,  but 
we  do  not  know.  Across  that  threshold  we  may  not  pass ; 
behind  that  veil  we  may  not  penetrate.  Into  that  country 
it  may  not  be  for  us  to  go.  It  may  be  vouchsafed  to  us  to 


VALLEY  FORGE.  347 

behold  it,  wonderingly,  from  afar,  but  never  to  enter  in.  It 
matters  not.  The  age  in  which  we  live  is  but  a  link  in  the 
endless  and  eternal  chain.  Our  lives  are  like  the  sands  upon 
the  shore ;  our  voices  like  the  breath  of  this  summer  breeze 
that  stirs  the  leaf  for  a  moment  and  is  forgotten.  Whence 
we  have  come  and  whither  we  shall  go  not  one  of  us  can 
tell.  And  the  last  survivor  of  this  mighty  multitude  shall 
stay  but  a  little  while. 

But  in  the  impenetrable  To  Be,  the  endless  generations 
are  advancing  to  take  our  places  as  we  fail.  For  them  as 
for  us  shall  the  Earth  roll  on  and  the  seasons  come  and  go, 
the  snowflakes  fall,  the  flowers  bloom,  and  the  harvests  be 
gathered  in.  For  them  as  for  us  shall  the  Sun,  like  the  life 
of  man,  rise  out  of  darkness  in  the  morning  and  sink  into 
darkness  in  the  night.  For  them  as  for  us  shall  the  years 
march  by  in  the  sublime  procession  of  the  ages.  And  here, 
in  this  place  of  Sacrifice,  in  this  vale  of  Humiliation,  in  this 
valley  of  the  Shadow  of  that  Death,  out  of  which  the  Life 
of  America  rose,  regenerate  and  free,  let  us  believe  with  an 
abiding  faith,  that  to  them  Union  will  seem  as  dear  and 
Liberty  as  sweet  and  Progress  as  glorious  as  they  were  to 
our  fathers  and  are  to  you  and  me,  and  that  the  Institutions 
which  have  made  us  happy,  preserved  by  the  virtue  of  our 
children,  shall  bless  the  remotest  generations  of  the  time  to 
come.  And  unto  Him,  who  holds  in  the  hollow  of  His 
hand  the  fate  of  nations,  and  yet  marks  the  sparrow's  fall, 
let  us  lift  up  our  hearts  this  day,  and  into  His  eternal  care 
commend  ourselves,  our  children,  and  our  country. 


ORATION 


COMPOSED    TO    BE   DELIVERED   AT 


FREEHOLD,   NEW   JERSEY,   JUNE    28,   1878, 


THE  ONE  HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY 


OF   THE 


BATTLE  OF  MOXMOUTH. 


ORATION. 


IT  is  your  fortune,  men  of  Monmouth,  to  dwell  upon 
historic  ground.  Yonder  by  the  sea  are  the  hills  on  which 
Hendrik  Hudson  gazed  before  he  beheld  the  great  river 
which  still  bears  his  name.  Around  you  are  the  towns  and 
villages  whose  settlements  recall  the  days  of  Carteret  and 
Berkeley.  The  name  of  your  pleasant  country  takes  the 
imagination  back  to  the  gay  court  of  Charles  the  Second 
and  his  favorite  and  ill-fated  son — and  year  after  year  you 
gather  the  ripened  grain  from  one  of  the  most  famous  fields 
in  the  long  fight  for  Liberty.  Your  sires  were  a  patriotic 
race.  When  the  struggle  with  Great  Britain  had  begun 
and  the  gallant  town  of  Boston  lay  suffering  and  in  chains, 
the  men  of  Monmouth  County  sent  on  October  12,  1774, 
twelve  hundred  bushels  of  rye  and  fifty  barrels  of  rye 
meal  to  their  suffering  brethren,  with  a  letter  in  which  I 
find  these  words:  "We  rely  under  God  upon  the  firmness 
and  resolution  of  your  people,  and  earnestly  hope  they  will 
never  think  of  receding  from  the  glorious  ground  they 
stand  upon  while  the  blood  of  Freedom  runs  in  their 
veins."*  So  wrote  the  Jersey  men  of  Monmouth  in  the 
beginning  of  the  trouble,  and  when  the  war  broke  out  they 


*  Collections  of  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  4th  Series,  vol. 
iv.  p.  110. 

351 


352  MONMOUTH. 

did  not  wait  for  their  enemy  to  come,  but  armed  themselves 
and  went  to  meet  him. 

Sons  of  such  sires,  in  full  enjoyment  of  all  they  gained 
for  you,  you  can  celebrate  with  a  light  heart  to-day,  the 
28th  of  June.  The  glory  of  that  day  belongs  to  all  your 
countrymen  alike,  but  the  place  that  witnessed  it  belongs  to 
you.  The  place — the  time — this  inspiring  throng,  would 
stir  colder  blood  than  his  who  speaks  to  you ;  and  even  if 
all  else  were  calm  within  me,  here  and  now  I  must  still 
feel  tingling  within  my  veins  the  drops  of  blood  which  I 
inherit  from  one  whose  patriotic  heart  boiled  within  him  at 
the  hedgerow  on  the  Parsonage  farm  an  hundred  years  ago. 
And  I  must  not  forget  that  my  duty  is  chiefly  introductory. 
My  task  to-day  is  to  describe  the  battle.  It  is  hard  to 
describe  a  fight,  especially  one  so  full  of  strange  and  con 
tradictory  stories,  nor  is  it  easy  to  cram  into  an  hour's 
speech  the  deeds  of  a  day  so  long  and  glorious.  With  me 
you  shall  fight  that  battle  over  again.  Others  shall  follow 
me  to  charm  you  with  their  eloquence,  but  for  the  hour  that 
I  stand  here  to-day,  the  Battle  of  Monmouth  shall  be  the 
orator.  I  pray  you,  then,  my  countrymen,  to  listen,  and  to 
give  me  your  attention  and  your  patience. 

The  British  and  American  armies  during  the  winter  of 
1777-78  presented  the  most  extraordinary  contrast  in  mil 
itary  history.  The  troops  of  Washington  were  encamped 
in  huts  at  Valley  Forge,  without  clothes,  or  shoes,  or 
blankets,  and  some  of  the  time  without  food  even  of  the 
simplest  kind.  The  army  of  Howe  lay  snugly  ensconced 
in  Philadelphia,  protected  by  strong  entrenchments,  thor 
oughly  equipped,  well  fed,  well  clothed,  and  in  direct  com 
munication  with  New  York  and  England.  At  one  time 
the  hardships  of  the  winter  had  reduced  the  Americans  from 
eleven  or  twelve  thousand  to  five  thousand  and  twelve  men. 


MONMOUTH.  353 

The  British  marched  into  Philadelphia  with  more  than  nine 
teen  thousand,  and  at  no  time  had  less  than  twelve  ready  for 
the  field.*  "Two  marches  on  the  fine  Lancaster  road,"  said 
Lafayette,  "  by  establishing  the  English  in  the  rear  of"  the 
American  "  right  flank,  would  have  rendered  their  position 
untenable,  from  which,  however,  they  had  no  means  of 
retiring.  The  unfortunate  soldiers  were  in  want  of  every 
thing.  .  .  .  From  want  of  money  they  could  neither  obtain 
provisions  nor  any  means  of  transport."  They  "  frequently 
remained  whole  days  without"  food.  "  The  sight  of  their 
misery  prevented  new  engagements — it  was  almost  impossi 
ble  to  levy  recruits."  f  From  December  till  the  middle  of 
March  their  situation  continued  to  be  desperate,  and  at  any 
time  during  that  period  resistance  to  a  vigorous  attack  by 
Sir  William  Howe  would  have  been  impossible.  But  that 
which  rendered  their  sufferings  so  severe,  protected  them. 
The  weather  was  extremely  cold,  the  ice  immensely  thick, 
the  highways  blocked  with  snow.  Philadelphia  furnished 
attractive  quarters — it  would  be  as  easy  to  disperse  the  rebels 
next  week  as  to-morrow.  They  had  been  often  beaten  in 
the  field,  and  could  be  at  any  time — their  submission  was 
simply  a  question  of  a  few  months — it  would  be  best  to  wait 
till  spring.  So  reasoned  the  English  commander,  and  the 
opportunity  slipped  by  forever.  Little  did  he  understand 
the  value  to  the  rebels  of  those  winter  days.  Little  did  he 
know  while  his  officers  feasted  and  gambled  and  rioted  in 
Philadelphia,  that  yonder  up  the  Schuylkill  those  ragged, 
half-starved  rebels  were  drilling  and  practising  and  growing 
into  an  effective  and  veteran  army.  January  and  February 

*  In  March,  1778,  they  were  nineteen  thousand  five  hundred  and 
thirty  strong.      Vide  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  542. 
f  Memoirs  of  Lafayette,  vol.  i.  p.  35. 


354  MONMOUTH. 

went  by  while  the  British  were  amusing  themselves  and 
the  Americans  working  hard ;  March  and  April  came  and 
went,  and  still  there  were  feasting  and  frolic  in  Philadel 
phia,  and  fasting  and  labor  at  Valley  Forge.  But  the 
change  had  come.  Greene  had  been  appointed  Quarter 
master,  Steuben  Inspector,  the  intrigues  of  Mr.  Conway  and 
his  friends  been  exposed  and  brought  to  naught,  the  last 
attempt  at  conciliation  without  independence  had  been  re 
jected  by  the  Congress,  and  with  the  early  days  of  May  had 
arrived  the  news  of  the  alliance  of  America  and  France. 
It  was  a  rude  awakening  for  the  British  army  after  its 
winter's  debauch  to  find  itself  master  solely  of  the  ground 
it  occupied,  the  King  respected  only  where  his  army  was — 
the  rebels  stronger  and  better  disciplined  than  ever,  and 
encouraged  by  the  news  from  Europe  that  seemed  to  loyal 
ears  so  distressing.  The  campaign  of  1777  had  accom 
plished  nothing — the  victories  of  Howe  had  been  fruitless 
— the  defeats  of  Burgoyne  disastrous — the  winter  in  the 
rebel  capital  fatal  to  the  royal  cause.  Not  one  prediction 
of  loyal  prophets  had  come  true.  Defeat  had  neither  dis 
heartened  nor  destroyed  the  rebel  army — the  loss  of  the 
capital  had  transferred  to  a  distant  village  instead  of  dis 
persing  the  Continental  Congress — the  power  of  the  Re 
bellion  remained  unbroken,  its  heart  alive,  its  limbs  more 
vigorous  than  ever.  In  a  word,  Philadelphia  had  proved 
a  second  Capua,  and  the  saying  of  shrewd  Franklin  had 
come  true :  "  Sir  William  Howe  had  not  taken  Philadel 
phia — Philadelphia  had  taken  Sir  William  Howe."* 

The  announcement  of  the  treaty  between  France  and  the 
Americans,  followed  by  the  news  of  a  declaration  of  war 

*  Parton's  Life  of  Franklin,  vol.  ii.  p.  281.     There  quoted  from 
Bowring's  Bentham,  vol.  x.  p.  527. 


MONMOUTH.  355 

against  Great  Britain,  was  of  sinister  importance  to  the 
British  in  Philadelphia.  Threatened  by  a  hostile  army, 
and  surrounded  as  they  were  by  an  enemy's  country,  a 
French  fleet  at  the  mouth  of  the  Delaware  would  put  them 
in  great  peril.  The  time  for  conquest  had  gone  by ;  it  had 
become  now  a  question  of  escape  and  safety.  The  season 
was  too  far  advanced  for  an  attack  on  the  camp  at  Valley 
Forge.  The  army  of  Washington  had  been  largely  in 
creased,  and  his  naturally  strong  position  strengthened 
since  the  winter  ceased.  The  country  swarmed  with  scouts 
and  partisans  and  spies.  The  vigilance  of  the  Americans 
was  untiring :  McLane  and  Harry  Lee  kept  the  neighbor 
hood  of  the  city  in  constant  agitation — the  banks  of  the 
Delaware  might  at  any  time  intercept  the  shipping — the 
French  fleet  would  perhaps  soon  arrive — to  remain  in 
Philadelphia  would  increase  the  danger.  What  was  to  be 
done  ?  An  escape  to  New  York  across  the  Jerseys  seemed 
the  only  chance,  and  the  sooner  that  was  attempted  the 
better.  On  the  llth  of  May,  Howe  announced  to  the 
army  his  departure  for  Europe  and  the  appointment  of  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  to  the  command.*  On  the  14th  it  was  or 
dered  that  the  heavy  baggage  should  be  made  ready. f  On 
the  20th  the  "  several  corps  were  directed  to  put  on  board 
their  transports  every  kind  of  baggage  they  could  possibly 
do  without  in  the  field,"J  and  five  days  later — "to  send 
on  board  their  baggage-ships  the  women  and  children  and 
the  men  actually  unfit  to  march."§  The  preparations  for 
departure  were  rapidly  and  well  made,  and  on  the  17th  of 


*  Manuscript  Orderly  Book  of  the  British  Army  found  on  the  field 
of  Monmouth.  A  transcript  is  in  the  Library  of  the  Historical  So 
ciety  of  Pennsylvania. 

f  Ibid.  J  Ibid.  I  Ibid. 


356  MONMOUTH. 

June,  at  four  in  the  morning,  Lieutenant-General  Knyp- 
hausen  and  General  Grant  crossed  the  river  with  a  large 
division  and  all  the  wagons  and  baggage.*  At  daybreak  on 
the  18th  the  remainder  of  the  army  followed  them.  The 
departure  was  hurried  and  almost  noiseless.f  The  troops 
marched  down  toward  League  Island  and  were  ferried  over 
to  Gloucester  Point.  "  They  did  not  go  away,"  wrote  an 
eye-witness,  "  they  vanished."};  It  must  have  seemed  so  to 
some  of  them  who  came  near  being  left  behind.  The  Hon. 
Cosmo  Gordon,  on  that  memorable  morning,  rose  for  an 
instant  into  the  notice  of  posterity,  as  he  sprang  out  of  bed, 
belated,  and  hurried  to  the  wharf  in  search  of  a  boat  to 
take  him  into  Jersey.  Hardly  had  he  found  one  and 
started  for  the  other  side  when  Allen  McLane's  light-horse 
men  came  galloping  into  town.§  That  night  the  British 
army  encamped  at  Haddonfield.||  It  consisted  of  about 
fourteen  thousand  men.  A  few  of  the  Hessians,  the  sick, 
the  camp-followers,  and  the  Tory  refugees,  of  whom  there 
were  a  number,  had  embarked  on  the  ships  in  the  river 
destined  for  New  York.  Notwithstanding  the  strict  and 
repeated  orders  to  the  contrary,  the  camp-followers  were 
numerous,  and  the  train  of  baggage  nearly  twelve  miles 
long.!"  On  the  morning  of  the  19th  Clinton  moved  with 
three  brigades  to  Evesham,  eight  miles  from  Haddonfield, 

*  Manuscript  Orderly  Book,  supra,  p.  355. 

f  Bell's  Journal :  New  Jersey  Historical  Society's  Proceedings, 
vol.  vi.  p.  15. 

J  Du  Simitiere  to  Colonel  Lamb.    Vide  Life  of  John  Lamb,  p.  213. 

|  Recollections  of  a  Lady:  Watson's  Annals  of  Philadelphia,  vol. 
ii.  p.  286. 

||  Bell's  Journal:  New  Jersey  Historical  Society's  Proceedings, 
vol.  vi.  p.  15, 

fl  Clinton's  Letter  to  Lord  George  Germaine:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii. 
p.  463. 


MONMOUTH.  357 

Leslie  commanding  the  advance,  and  Knyphausen  following 
with  the  Hessians  and  two  brigades  of  British.*  The 
country  had  by  this  time  become  alarmed.  The  militia 
had  sprung  to  arms  in  all  quarters  of  the  State.  Familiar 
as  they  had  been  with  the  presence  of  the  enemy  from  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  the  Jerseymen  had  become  proficient 
in  partisan  warfare.  The  State  was  thoroughly  patriotic. 
It  had  suffered  more  perhaps  than  any  other  from  the  dep 
redations  of  the  enemy.  Beginning  in  1776,  the  armies 
had  crossed  and  re-crossed  from  the  Hudson  to  the  Dela 
ware,  and  at  no  period  of  the  struggle  was  the  soil  of  New 
Jersey  destined  to  be  free  from  the  irruptions  of  the  Brit 
ish.  The  wise  and  patriotic  Livingston,  who  was  then  the 
governor,  had  foreseen  the  danger  of  a  new  invasion,  and 
prepared  to  meet  it,  and  the  tramp  of  Clint on's  army  was 
the  signal  at  which  the  armed  yeomen  sprung  as  it  were  out 
of  the  very  ground.  Philemon  Dickinson,  of  Trenton, 
their  commander,  prepared  to  harass  the  enemy  at  every 
point,  and  detached  bodies  were  ordered  to  break  the 
bridges  in  their  way  and  hang  upon  their  flanks  and  rear. 
Hardly  had  the  advance-guard  left  Haddon field,  on  the 
19th,  before  it  was  attacked  by  a  body  of  militia,  and  a 
sharp  skirmish  followed. f  On  the  20th  Clinton  reached 
Mount  Holly,J  on  the  22d  the  Black  Horse,  seven  miles 
farther  on.§  At  five  in  the  morning  of  the  23d  he  moved 
to  Crosswicks.||  A  lively  skirmish  delayed  him  at  the 
bridge  across  the  creek ;  but  the  next  day  he  arrived  at 
Allentown.lf  Up  to  this  point  the  British  commander 
had  been  uncertain  whether  to  push  to  New  York  by  the 
way  of  Brunswick,  or  turn  eastward  and  seek  the  protection 

*  Bell's  Journal:  New  Jersey  Historical  Society's  Proceedings, 
vol.  vi.  p.  15. 
f  Ibid.  %  Ibid.  g  Ibid.,  p.  16.  ||  Ibid.          fl  Ibid. 


358  MONMOUTH. 

of  the  fleet  at  Sandy  Hook.  The  information  which  he 
gained  at  Crosswicks  decided  him.  The  whole  American 
army  had  crossed  the  Delaware  and  was  advancing  in  his 
front.* 

Washington  had  lost  no  time.  Convinced  that  the 
British  would  soon  evacuate  Philadelphia  and  try  to  cross 
the  Jerseys, f  he  had  issued  orders  to  prepare  for  the  con 
tingency  nearly  three  weeks  before.  For  the  past  fortnight 
he  had  had  everything  in  readiness.J  On  the  1 8th  of  June, 
at  eleven  A.M.,  the  news  reached  him  that  the  enemy  had 
gone.§  At  three  o'clock  Charles  Lee,  with  Poor's,  Hunting- 
ton's,  and  Varnum's  brigades,  crossed  the  Schuylkill  in  full 
march  for  Coryell's  Ferry,  and  at  five  Wayne  followed  with 
three  brigades  of  Pennsylvanians.||  The  Jersey  brigade  of 
Maxwell  had  already  been  ordered  to  join  General  Dickinson 
and  co-operate  in  his  efforts  to  detain  the  enemy. T  On  the 
19th  Washington  followed  with  the  whole  army.**  The 
heat  was  intolerable,  the  weather  rainy,  and  the  roads  bad.ff 
It  was  not  until  the  21st  that  the  army  was  safely  over  the 
river  and  encamped  in  Jersey.! t  The  British  were  approach 
ing  Crosswicks.  The  country  was  alive  with  rumors  and 
excitement.  The  enemy  were  reported  to  be  in  force,  with 

*  Clinton's  Letter  to  Lord  George  Germaine.     Vide  Lee  Papers, 
vol.  ii.  p.  462. 

f  Sparks's  Washington,  vol.  v.  pp.  374,  376,  380,  381,  387. 

J  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  pp.  406-408. 

\  Sparks's  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  409. 

||  Diary  of  Joseph  Clark :  New  Jersey  Historical  Society's  Pro 
ceedings,  vol.  vii.  p.  106. 

\  Sparks's  Washington,  vol.  v.  pp.  386-7. 
**  Washington  to  his  brother:  Ibid.,  p.  431. 

ft  Washington  to  President  of  Congress,  June  28,  1778:  Ibid.,  p. 
420. 

\\  Washington  to  his  brother:  Ibid.,  p.  431. 


MO  N  MOUTH.  359 

an  immense  baggage-train  and  a  host  of  followers,  who  com 
mitted  all  sorts  of  depredations  as  they  marched.*  Accounts 
of  plundered  farms  and  burned  homesteads  came  thick  and 
fast.  Their  slow  advance  led  Washington  to  think  that  they 
wished  a  general  action  and  sought  to  draw  him  into  the 
low  country  to  the  south  and  east.  Detaching  Morgan  with 
six  hundred  men  to  reinforce  Maxwell  and  watch  them 
close  at  hand,  he  marched  to  Hope  well,  where  he  remained 
until  the  25th. f  Summoning  a  council  of  war,  he  put  the 
question  whether  a  battle  should  be  fought.  Greene,  La 
fayette,  Du  Portail,  and  Wayne  urged,  as  one  of  them  has 
told  us,  "that  it  would  be  disgraceful  and  humiliating  to 
allow  the  enemy  to  cross  the  Jerseys  in  tranquillity"! — that 
his  rear  might  be  attacked  without  serious  risk,  and  that 
he  ought  to  be  followed  closely,  and  advantage  taken  of  the 
first  favorable  opportunity  to  attack  him.  But  the  majority 
held  other  views.§  It  was  argued  that  much  was  to  be  lost 
by  defeat  and  little  gained  by  victory.  That  the  French 
alliance  insured  the  final  triumph  of  the  cause,  and  it  would 
only  be  a  risk  to  attempt  a  battle  with  the  British  army, 
which  several  declared  had  never  been  so  excellent  or  so 
well  disciplined.  This  view  prevailed  chiefly  because  of 
the  earnest  eloquence  and  great  reputation  of  him  who  urged 
it  on  the  council. ||  Charles  Lee,  the  second  in  command, 
was  a  native  of  England,  and  about  forty-seven  years  of 
age.  An  ensign  in  the  British  army  at  twelve,  he  had 
risen  to  be  lieutenant-colonel.  He  had  served  in  the  old 
French  war,  and  in  Portugal  against  the  Spanish,  and  at 


*  See  letter  in  "Pennsylvania  Packet"  of  July  14,  1778. 
f  Sparks's  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  422. 
%  Memoirs  of  Lafayette,  vol.  i.  p.  51.  $  Ibid. 

||  Ibid.,  p.  50.     Also  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  552. 


360  MONMOUTH. 

one  time  had  been  a  major-general  in  the  Polish  service. 
Of  unquestioned  bravery,  he  had  distinguished  himself  by 
several  exploits,  which  his  excessive  vanity  would  not  suffer 
to  be  forgotten.  Taken  at  his  own  estimation  rather  than  at 
his  real  value,  as  such  a  man  is  apt  to  be,  he  had  won  without 
a  stroke  of  his  sword  the  most  exaggerated  reputation 
among  the  Americans  for  military  genius  and  experience. 
A  soldier  of  fortune,  he  cared  little  at  heart  for  the  princi 
ples  for  which  the  colonies  were  contending,  as  the  selfish 
terms  on  which  he  entered  their  employment  showed,  but 
he  had  rendered  the  cause  essential  service,  and  enjoyed 
a  reputation  second  only  to  that  of  Washington.  Indeed, 
there  were  many  who,  a  little  while  before,  would  have 
been  glad  to  have  seen  the  names  reversed,  and  some  who 
still  felt  with  an  anonymous  writer,  when  at  the  moment 
that  Washington's  virtues  were  keeping  the  army  together 
at  Valley  Forge,  he  cried  for  "  a  Gates,  a  Lee,  or  a  Con- 
way."  Accustomed  to  be  revered  as  an  authority,  Lee 
spoke  with  earnestness  and  even  eloquence.  He  had  lately 
returned  from  more  than  a  year's  captivity.  He  was  ac 
quainted  with  the  character  of  Clinton.  He  knew  the  effi 
ciency  of  the  British  army — he  had  had  great  experience 
in  war.  His  courage  was  known,  his  character  trusted,  his 
fidelity  unquestioned,  his  arguments  ingenious,  his  language 
eloquent.  His  views  prevailed,  and  it  was  decided  only 
to  harass  the  enemy.  Charles  Scott  of  Virginia  was  sent 
forward  to  join  Dickinson,  and  the  army  marched  to  Kings 
ton.*  But  after  the  council  had  dissolved  Hamilton,  La 
fayette,  and  Greene  urged  more  vigorous  measures ;  some 
of  the  others  changed  their  minds — the  chief  himself  in 
clined  to  run  the  risk,  and  it  was  decided  to  seek  battle. f 

*  Sparks' s  Washington,  vol.  v.  p.  423. 
f  Memoirs  of  Lafayette,  vol.  i.  p.  51. 


MONMOUTH.  361 

Accordingly,  on  the  25th,  three  thousand  men  were  ordered 
to  join  Scott  and  approach  the  enemy.*  The  command  of 
this  body  naturally  belonged  to  Lee.  But  disgusted  at  the 
altered  plan,  that  officer  declined  to  undertake  it,  and  it  was 
given  to  Lafayette.  Hardly  had  the  latter  marched,  how 
ever,  when  Lee  changed  his  mind.  The  detachment  was  a 
separate  command — he  would  be  criticised  if  he  allowed  a 
junior  to  assume  it — he  besought  Washington  to  let  him 
have  it  after  all.f  Disturbed  by  this  and  anxious  not  to 
wound  Lafayette,  the  Commander-in-Chief  settled  the 
difficulty  by  giving  Lee  a  thousand  men,  with  orders  to 
overtake  the  former,  when  his  seniority  would  give  him 
command  of  the  whole.J 

This  was  on  the  26th  of  June.  On  the  morning  before, 
the  British  march  at  five  o'clock  had  revealed  what  Sir 
Henry  Clinton  had  decided  to  do.  Finding  Washington 
approaching,  he  turned  eastward  and  made  for  Sandy  Hook. 
Sending  the  baggage  forward  under  Knyphausen,  he  fol 
lowed  slowly  with  the  main  part  of  his  army.§  On  the 
27th  he  encamped  at  Monmouth  Court-House.||  Meantime 
the  Americans  had  not  been  idle.  All  the  way  from  Cross- 
wicks,  Dickinson  and  Morgan  had  hung  upon  the  British 
flanks.lf  The  main  American  army  had  been  detained  at 
Cranberry  by  rain,  and  the  advance  retarded  by  want  of 
provisions  (Wayne's  detachment  obliged  to  halt  at  mid-day 

*  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  413.     Also  Lafayette's  Memoirs,  vol.  i. 
p.  51. 

f  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  417. 

%  Sparks,  vol.  v.  pp.  418-19. 

$  Clinton  to  Lord  George  Germaine.     Vide  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii. 
p.  462. 

||  Manuscript  Orderly  Book. 

K  Washington  to  President  of  Congress.     Vide  Sparks,  vol.  v. 
p.  424. 

24 


362  MONMOUTH. 

on  the  26th  because  it  was  "  almost  starving"),*  but  on  the 
morning  of  the  27th  Lafayette  and  Lee  effected  a  junctionf 
between  Cranberry  and  Englishtown.  The  two  armies 
were  now  less  than  five  miles  apart.  It  was  evident  to  the 
commanders  of  both  that  the  last  moment  for  a  battle  had 
arrived.  A  few  miles  beyond  Monmouth  the  British  would 
reach  the  high  ground  of  Middletown,  when  it  would  be 
impossible  to  cut  them  off  and  dangerous  to  follow. %  If  a 
blow  was  to  be  struck,  now  or  never  was  the  time.  The 
orders  of  Washington  were  explicit.  On  the  afternoon  of 
the  27th  he  sent  for  Lee  and  the  brigadiers  of  his  com 
mand,  told  them  he  wished  the  enemy  to  be  attacked 
next  morning,  and  desired  General  Lee  to  concert  with 
his  subordinates  some  plan  of  action.  Five  o'clock  was 
named  as  the  time  for  a  conference,  but  when  the  officers 
called,  Lee  dismissed  them  with  the  remark  that  it  was 
not  possible  to  make  a  plan  beforehand.§  The  advance 
lay  for  the  night  at  Englishtown,  the  main  body  of  the 
Americans  three  miles  farther  to  the  westward.  The 
British  were  encamped  along  the  road,  their  right  resting 
on  the  forks  of  the  roads  to  Middletown  and  Shrewsbury, 
the  baggage  in  charge  of  the  Hessians  placed  near  the 
Court-House,  the  left  extending  toward  Allentown  about 
three  miles.  ||  The  little  village  of  Monmouth  Court- 
House  had  grown  up  at  the  intersection  of  three  roads — 

*  Hamilton  to  Washington  :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  420. 

f  Ogden's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  vol.  iii.  p.  65. 

t  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  425. 

I  Testimony  of  Generals  Scott  and  Wayne :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii. 
pp.  2,  4.  [The  "Lee  Papers"  to  which  frequent  reference  is  made 
in  this  oration  are  papers  relating  to  Lee's  trial  by  court-martial, 
published  by  the  New  York  Historical  Society. — ED.] 

|!  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  424. 


MONMOUTH.  363 

that  on  which  the  British  were  marching,  another  which  led 
northward  toward  Amboy,  and  a  third  which  came  from 
Englishtown  and  Cranberry.  A  few  houses  clustered  about 
the  wooden  Court-House,  which  stood  on  the  spot  where  we 
are  gathered  to-day.  Long  settled  as  the  country  had  been, 
much  of  it  remained  uncleared.  The  undulating  plain 
through  which  the  road  ran  northeastwardly  to  Middletown 
was  open,  but  the  way  to  Cranberry  soon  after  leaving  the 
Court-House  plunged  into  woods,  which  lined  it  for  several 
miles. 

It  was  the  night  of  Saturday,  the  27th  of  June.  Imag 
ine,  if  you  can,  the  scene :  the  little  village  about  the  Court- 
House,  full  of  soldiers  in  scarlet — the  baggage- wagons 
drawn  together  in  the  open  ground  to  the  southward — the 
crackling  of  the  fires  as  the  troops  get  supper — the  neighing 
of  many  horses  picketed  along  the  road — here  an  officer 
riding  by,  there  a  guard  marching  to  its  post — the  hum  of 
voices — the  innumerable  noises  of  the  camp  growing  fainter 
as  the  evening  draws  on — and  at  last  the  quiet  of  the  sum 
mer  night,  broken  only  by  the  steady  footfalls  of  the  senti 
nels  and  the  barking  of  a  dog  at  some  distant  farm-house 
or  the  stamping  of  some  restless  horse.  Who  can  foresee 
that  to-morrow  a  deed  shall  be  done  that  shall  consecrate 
for  all  time  this  quiet  Jersey  village,  and  that  the  bene 
dictions  of  a  grateful  people  shall  descend  forever  upon 
Monmouth  Court-House ! 

By  ten  o'clock  all  is  hushed.  It  is  a  hot  night,  without 
a  breath  of  wind.  The  woods  in  the  northwest  are  as  still 
as  death,  their  leaves  drooping  and  motionless,  and  the 
summer  sky  is  unobscured  by  a  single  cloud.  A  sharp 
lookout  is  kept  down  the  road  and  on  the  edge  of  the 
woods  towards  Englishtown,  for  in  the  afternoon  a  deserter 
has  come  in  with  the  information  that  "  the  rebels  are  ex- 


364  MONMOUTH. 

tended  along  our  left  flank,  and  are  very  numerous."*  But 
the  darkness  passes  without  the  sign  of  an  enemy.  At  the 
early  dawn  there  is  bustle  and  noise  in  the  camp  about  the 
Court-House.  The  reveille  sounds  and  the  Hessians  are 
astir.  The  air  is  full  of  the  noise  of  neighing  horses  and 
chattering  men.  The  baggage-wagons  begin  to  move  into 
the  road  to  Middletown,  the  line  of  march  is  formed,  and 
as  the  sun  rises,  about  half-past  four,  Knyphausen's  division 
has  begun  to  move.f  Five  o'clock  comes,  and  with  it  day 
light.  The  fresh  breath  of  the  morning  is  pleasant  after 
the  hot  night,  but  the  cloudless  sky  and  the  heavy  air 
promise  a  trying  day.  All  along  the  road  the  camp  is 
stirring,  the  different  regiments  forming  into  line — the  Light 
Infantry  and  Hessian  Grenadiers  on  the  right,  the  Guards, 
the  First  and  Second  Grenadiers,  the  Highlanders,  the  loyal 
battalions,  and  the  Queen's  Rangers  each  in  turn.  At  six 
the  hot  day  has  begun,  but  it  is  nearly  eight  before  the 
column  has  started.  It  is  a  splendid  sight,  and  one  that 
this  quiet  county  will  never  see  again,  this  perfectly-ap 
pointed  army  moving  with  its  long  train  of  artillery  and 
baggage  along  the  road.  Here  is  the  Hessian :  u  a  towering, 
brass-fronted  cap,  mustaches  covered  with  the  same  material 
that  colors  his  shoes,  his  hair,  plastered  with  tallow  and 
flour,  tightly  drawn  into  a  long  appendage  reaching  from 
the  back  of  his  head  to  his  waist,  his  blue  uniform  almost 
covered  by  the  broad  belts  sustaining  his  car  touch-box,  his 
brass-hilted  sword,  and  his  bayonet;  a  yellow  waistcoat 
with  flaps,  and  yellow  breeches  met  at  the  knee  by  black 


*  Bell's  Journal :  New  Jersey  Historical  Society's  Proceedings, 
vol.  vi.  p.  17. 

f  Testimony  of  Captain  Mercer :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  102  ;  also 
Clinton's  Letter  to  Lord  George  Germaine,  vol.  ii.  p.  463. 


MONMOUTH.  365 

gaiters — thus  heavily  equipped/7*  he  moves  "like  an  autom 
aton"  down  the  road.  See  the  British  Grenadier,  tall  and 
stalwart,  with  smooth-shaven  face  and  powdered  hair,  on 
his  head  a  pointed  cap  of  black  leather  fronted  with  a 
gilded  ornament — his  coat  of  scarlet,  with  collar  and  cuffs 
of  buff  trimmed  with  red — a  broad,  white  leather  strap 
over  the  left  shoulder  carrying  his  cartridge-box — one  over 
the  right  bears  his  bayonet-scabbard  which  hangs  at  his 
left  thigh,  and  where  they  cross  on  his  breast  there  is  a 
plate  of  brass  with  the  number  of  his  regiment.  His 
breeches  of  white  are  protected  by  long  black  leggins.f 
The  accoutrements  of  all  are  in  perfect  order,  their  equip 
ment  complete,  and  one  after  another  the  regiments  break 
into  column  and  march  toward  the  east.  The  sun  has 
already  risen  above  the  high  ground  near  the  sea,  the  birds 
that  have  been  twittering  in  the  branches  have  ceased  to 
sing — Knyphausen  with  the  long  train  of  heavily  lumber 
ing  baggage  has  crossed  the  open  plain,  and  still  the  lines 
of  scarlet  are  passing  by  the  little  Court-House.  Where 
are  the  Americans  ? — the  chance  to  fight  a  battle  is  almost 
gone. 

Somewhere  in  that  still  and  silent  wood  Dickinson's 
militia  have  been  watching  through  the  night.  With  the 
first  noise  in  the  British  camp  they  are  alert.  No  move 
ment  of  the  enemy  escapes  them,  and  as  Knyphausen  be 
gins  his  march  a  messenger  gallops  off  at  full  speed  through 
the  woods.  He  dashes  into  camp  at  five  o'clock.  An 
order  is  at  once  sent  to  General  Lee  to  follow  and  attack 
"unless  there  should  be  very  powerful  reasons  to  the 

*  Dunlap's  History  of  the  American  Theatre,  London,  vol.  i.  pp. 
85-6. 

f  Moorsom's  History  of  the  Fifty-second  Regiment. 


366  MONMOUTH. 

contrary,"*  and  the  main  army  is  ordered  under  arms. 
Meantime  Lee  has  his  detachment  ready.  Butler  of 
Pennsylvania  with  two  hundred  men  marches  first;  Scott's 
brigade  and  a  part  of  Wood  ford's,  about  six  hundred,  fol 
low  ;  Varnum's  brigade,  under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Olney, 
six  hundred  strong ;  Wayne's  detachment  of  one  thousand  ; 
Scott  with  another  of  fourteen  hundred,  and  Maxwell  with 
about  one  thousand  bringing  up  the  rear.  Distributed 
among  these  are  twelve  pieces  of  artillery.f  At  seven 
o'clock  the  advance  has  reached  the  old  Presbyterian 
Church  on  the  side  of  the  road,  east  of  Englishtown,  and 
is  distant  from  the  British  about  three  miles.  A  road 
.nearly  straight  leads  from  this  point  to  the  Court-House. 
Let  us  take  a  look  at  the  country  that  lies  between.  It  is 
a  rolling  country,  well  covered  with  timber.  Just  beyond 
the  Church,  as  one  goes  towards  Monmouth,  the  road  de 
scends  a  hill  and  crosses  a  morass,  through  which  a  stream 
of  water  flows  toward  the  south  and  west.  A  long  causeway 
of  logs  has  made  the  place  passable,^  and  on  the  eastern  side 
the  hill  rises  quickly  to  a  considerable  elevation.  The  road 
now  continues  through  a  piece  of  timber,  which  is  large 
and  heavy  on  the  left,  but  just  beyond  the  edge  of  it,  on 
the  right,  are  the  open  fields  of  three  farms,  known  as 
Tennent's,  Wikoif's,  and  Carr's.  The  two  latter  are  di 
vided  by  a  deep  ravine,  which  crosses  the  road  at  right 
angles,  about  half-way  between  the  causeway  and  the  Court- 
House.  The  wood  on  the  left  extends  almost  to  the  village, 
and  covers  the  side  of  a  bluif  which  forms  the  western 

*  Testimony  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Meade :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii. 
pp.  7,  8 ;  also  of  Captain  Mercer,  p.  102. 

f  Testimony  of  Wayne  :  Ibid.,  p.  22. 

J  Ralph  Schenck?s  statement.  Vide  Historical  Magazine,  1861, 
vol.  v.  p.  220. 


MON MOUTH.  367 

boundary  of  the  plain  of  Mon mouth.  Beneath  this  bluff, 
running  due  north  from  the  Court-House,  is  a  deep  and 
almost  impassable  morass.  There  are  but  three  houses  be 
tween  the  Church,  at  which  the  advance  has  halted,  and  the 
village,  the  first  called  the  Parsonage,  in  the  open  field,  just 
after  one  ascends  the  hill,  and  the  second  and  third,  known 
as  Wikoff 's  and  Carr's,  on  the  western  and  eastern  sides  of 
the  ravine  that  separates  them.  The  morass  westward  of 
the  Parsonage  begins  more  than  a  mile  to  the  northeast,  and, 
following  the  stream  which  makes  it,  sweeps  around  between 
the  hills  to  the  southeast,  where  it  joins  another  that  runs 
westwardly.  It  is  a  bog  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  in 
width,  deep  and  impassable,  save  at  the  causeway.  The 
distance  from  the  Court-House  to  the  ravine  between  Carr's 
house  and  Wikoff 's  is  about  a  mile;  to  the  causeway,  across 
the  large  morass,  a  trifle  more  than  two  miles.  Such  is  the 
country  that  separates  the  armies.*  As  the  advance  under 
Lee  approaches  the  long  causeway,  a  few  scattering  shots  are 
heard  and  it  is  halted.  Scott's  brigade  have  advanced  up 
the  morass,  the  rest  formed  upon  the  western  hill.f  A  few  of 
Dickinson's  militia,  down  the  road  toward  the  Court-House, 
have  encountered  a  flanking  party  of  the  British.  As  the 
troops  halt,  a  stout,  ruddy-faced  officer  rides  up.  It  is 
Anthony  Wayne,  whom  Lee  has  summoned  to  command 
the  advance.  There  is  a  report  that  the  enemy  are  near. 
Wayne  takes  his  spy-glass,  but  can  discover  only  a  party  of 
the  country  people.J  Dickinson  comes  in  haste  to  Lee.  He 
is  sure  that  the  enemy  are  marching  from  the  Court-House. 
Lee  doubts  the  story,  but  orders  a  brigade  to  form  at  the 
left,  facing  a  road  by  which  Dickinson  expects  the  enemy. § 

*  Map  in  Carrington's  Battles  of  the  American  Revolution. 

f  Wayne's  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  18.     J  Ibid.     $  Ibid. 


368  MONMOUTH. 

But  the  intelligence  is  contradictory,  and,  after  a  few  min 
utes7  delay,  Lee  in  impatience  pushes  the  troops  forward 
across  the  causeway. 

Down  the  road  toward  the  Court-House  they  move 
rapidly,  marching  briskly  in  spite  of  the  heat,  which  by 
this  time  has  become  oppressive.  They  are  a  sad  contrast 
to  the  well-equipped  enemy  they  go  to  meet.  They  have 
no  uniforms.  Linen  shirts  and  coats  of  butternut^  home 
spun,  and  made,  and  dyed,  are  the  best  among  them,  and 
few  have  these.  "  They  are  so  nearly  naked  that  it  is  a 
shame  to  bring  them  into  the  field,"*  says  Major  Jameson  of 
Maryland,  and  Lee  complains  that  they  have  no  uniforms, 
colors,  or  marks  to  distinguish  the  regiments  from  each  other. 
But  they  march  well  and  with  a  soldierly  air,  thanks  to 
the  training  of  Steuben  at  Valley  Forge.  About  half-past 
eight  o'clock  they  approach  the  Court-House.  The  rear 
guard  of  the  British  has  passed  through  it,  but  a  party  of 
both  infantry  and  horse  are  drawn  up  in  the  open  ground 
to  the  north  westward. f  The  Americans  halt  under  cover 
of  the  woods,  and  Lee  and  Wayne  ride  forward  to  recon 
noitre.  A  messenger  stops  Lee,  and  Wayne  goes  on  alone. J 
There  appear  to  be  about  five  hundred  foot,  and  in  front 
of  them  three  hundred  horsemen — the  famous  Queen's 
Rangers  Hussars,  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant-Col 
onel  Simcoe.§  Wayne  orders  Butler  out  of  the  woods 
into  the  open  close  to  the  Court-House.  The  enemy  slowly 
retire  as  the  Americans  approach.  A  few  of  Butler's  men 
fire,  and  the  Rangers  fall  back  with  the  infantry  pre- 


*  Bland  Papers,  vol.  i.  p.  97. 

f  Wayne's  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  18.  J  Ibid. 

§  Siracoe's  Journal,  p.  68;  also  Bell's  Journal:  New  Jersey  His 
torical  Society's  Proceedings,  vol.  vi.  p.  17. 


MONMOUTH.  3(39 

cipitately  into  the  village.*  Long  shall  that  spot  be  neg 
lected  and  forgotten,  but  the  time  shall  come  when,  on 
another  28th  of  June,  the  sons  of  America,  beneath  peaceful 
skies,  shall  build  with  pious  services  upon  that  sloping  field 
a  monument  to  mark  forever  the  place  where  the  first  shot 
was  fired  and  the  Battle  of  Monmouth  was  begun !  And 
now,  as  the  enemy  are  apparently  moving  rapidly  off  into 
the  plain,  Butler  files  to  the  left  of  their  left  flank,  and 
sends  word  to  Wayne  that  the  enemy  are  retreating.f  The 
General,  in  reply,  gallops  up  and  halts  the  Pennsylvanians 
in  the  edge  of  a  wood,  close  to  the  Court-House,  from  which 
they  can  see  the  British  in  regular  order,  horse,  foot,  and 
artillery,  retreating  toward  the  eastward.  It  is  evident 
that  they  are  leaving  the  ground  in  haste.  Meantime  the 
detachments  of  Scott,  Grayson,  and  Varnum  have  halted 
on  the  side  of  the  morass  which  bounds  the  plain  of  Mon- 
mouth,J  half  a  mile  or  more  to  the  northward  of  the  position 
of  Wayne  and  Butler.  From  all  these  points  the  enemy 
can  be  seen  moving  rapidly  out  of  the  village  across  the  open 
plain. §  Hot-headed  Wayne  grows  impatient.  At  the  edge 
of  the  wood  he  has  found  a  place  where  the  morass  can  be 
crossed,  and  orders  Butler  forward.  At  the  same  moment  a 
swarthy  man  on  horseback  gallops  up  to  Lee.  He  has  been 
near  the  enemy,  and  is  sure  they  are  a  rear-guard  of  only 
one  thousand  men — considerably  separated  from  the  main 
body.  He  offers  to  take  a  detachment  and  double  their 
right  flank.  It  is  black  David  Foreman — commander  of 


*  Butler's  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  44. 
f  Ibid. 

J  Scott's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  vol.  iii.  p.  28;  also  Grayson's,  p.  36; 
Olney's,  p.  127  ;  Lee's,  p.  182. 

$  Wayne's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  20. 


370  MONMOUTH. 

the  Monmouth  County  militia — the  terror  of  the  Tories.* 
Lee  spitefully  replies,  "  I  know  my  business,"  and  Fore 
man  retires  in  disgust, f  But  what  is  that  business  ?  Surely 
not  to  let  the  enemy  move  away  under  his  guns  as  if  upon 
parade.  The  precious  moments  are  flying — the  Rangers  in 
the  rear-guard  are  half  a  mile  out  of  the  village  already, 
continuing  their  march,  when  Captain  Mercer,  of  Lee's 
staif,  rides  up  to  him.  He  has  been  down  the  road  toward 
the  Court-House,  and  has  seen  a  large  encampment  of  the 
enemy,  which  they  have  just  left,  for  the  chairs  are  stand 
ing  and  water  lies  there  freshly  spilt ;  a  countryman  tells 
him  that  there  is  a  strong  force,  about  two  thousand,  still 
behind  the  Court-House.J  "Then  I  shall  take  them,"  says 
Lee,§  and  orders  the  detachments  on  the  left  to  march 
into  the  plain,  to  turn  their  right.  They  quit  the  woods, 
descend  the  bluff,  cross  the  morass,  and  advance  nearly 
half  a  mile  into  the  plain — Grayson's  in  advance,  Jackson's 
a  hundred  yards  behind,  Scott's  next  to  Jackson's,  and  Maxj 
well's  Jerseymen  in  the  rear,  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  morass. 
Wayne  is  now  far  in  front  in  the  open  ground.  On  his  right, 
on  a  little  elevation,  he  has  posted  Eleazer  Oswald,  with 
two  guns. 1 1  Varnum's  brigade,  of  the  Rhode  Island  line, 
is  on  the  left,  Butler's  regiment  in  front,  in  the  rear  of  all 
-Wesson,  Livingston,  and  Stewart.  Suddenly  the  enemy  halt 
and  form  in  line  of  battle.  A  regiment  of  cavalry  sup 
ported  by  infantry  advance  towards  Butler,  and  several  guns 
to  the  eastward  open  fire.  Oswald  replies  effectively  with 
his  two  pieces  on  the  height,  and  Butler  prepares  to  receive 
an  attack.  Down  come  the  British  cavalry  in  full  charge. 

*  Barber  and  Howe's  Historical  Collection  of  New  Jersey,  p.  346. 

f  Foreman's  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  25. 

%  Mercers  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  106.  $  Ibid. 

||  Oswald's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  pp.  132-3. 


MONMOUTH.  371 

Butler  reserves  his  fire  till  they  are  near,  when  a  well-di 
rected  volley  breaks  them,  and  they  retire  in  disorder  through 
the  infantry,  throwing  them  into  confusion.*  At  this  the 
British  suddenly  turn  back  and  march  towards  the  Court- 
House.  They  appear  very  strong;  it  is  evident  that  the 
whole  rear  division  has  returned  to  prevent  a  demonstration 
against  the  baggage.  Wayne  sends  to  Lee  for  more  troops. 
Lee  answers  that  it  is  a  feint,  f  and  that  he  does  not  wish  the 
enemy  to  be  vigorously  attacked  until  his  flank  is  exposed. 
The  British  approach  the  Court-House  in  great  force.  Lee 
directs  Lafayette  to  fall  back  to  the  Court-House  with  the 
brigade  of  Varnum,  and  Stewart's  and  Livingston's  regi 
ments.  J  Wayne,  meantime,  is  chafing  with  impatience.  The 
enemy  are  crossing  his  front — he  cannot  get  troops  enough 
to  strike  them  with  effect,  and  Oswald's  ammunition  has 
given  out.§  Just  at  this  moment  General  Scott  rides  up — a 
hot-headed  Virginian,  as  gallant  and  full  of  fight  as  Wayne 
himself.  From  his  command  on  the  left,  far  out  in  the 
plain,  he  has  seen  the  troops  under  Lafayette  apparently 
retreating  toward  the  Court-House.  Alarmed  at  this,  and 
having  tried  in  vain  to  get  his  cannon  across  the  morass, 
he  has  ordered  his  men  to  retire  behind  it  and  form  in  the 
woods  beyond,  from  which  they  came.  Here  he  has  left 
them,  and  galloped  down  to  learn  what  is  the  matter.!).. 
Wayne  is  in  equal  wonderment.  One  of  his  aides  has  just 
come  from  General  Lee  with  the  startling  information  that 
the  whole  right  is  falling  back  in  haste  from  the  Court- 
House;  but  he  brings  no  orders.  Together  Scott  and 

*  Butlers  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  44;  also  Wayne's,  p.  20. 

f  Lee's  Defence  :  Ibid.,  p.  194. 

J  Lafayette's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  12. 

$  Oswald's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  134. 

||  Scott's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  p.  28. 


372  MONMOUTH. 

Wayne  ride  there.  The  troops  have  already  left.  Wayne 
sends  an  aide  to  Lee  to  beg  that  they  might  be  ordered  back 
to'  the  place  from  which  they  had  retired,  the  enemy  being 
still  a  mile  away.  Major  Fishbourne  returns.  He  has  found 
General  Lee,  whose  only  answer  is  that  he  will  see  General 
Wayne  himself.*  It  is  now  about  eleven  o'clock.  Furious 
with  disappointment,  Wayne  sends  a  third  time.  Will  not 
General  Lee  halt  the  main  body  to  cover  the  retreat  of  Gen 
eral  Scott?  His  aides  return  without  an  answer  ;f  the  troops 
are  still  retiring  in  some  confusion  nearly  a  mile  in  the  rear, 
in  front  of  the  ravine  by  Carr's  House.  The  enemy  are 
close  at  hand.  Wayne  orders  Butler  out  of  the  plain  in 
haste,J  while  he  and  Scott  watch  in  the  orchard  near  the 
village.  At  this  moment  up  gallops  Richard  Meade.  He 
is  an  aide  of  Washington's,  and  has  ridden  forward  by  the 
General's  orders  at  the  first  sound  of  the  cannonading.  He 
has  met  the  troops  retreating  in  disorder  near  the  defile  by 
Carr's  House.  There  he  has  found  General  Lee,  who  tells 
him  that  they  are  all  in  confusion,  but  has  no  message  for 
the  Commander-in-Chief.  Meade  gallops  to  the  village; 
the  enemy  are  there,  and  already  the  head  of  their  column 
appears  this  side  the  Court-House. §  Scott  hurries  to  his 
command,  1 1  while  Wayne  retires  slowly  with  Meade  toward 
Carr's  House,  pursued  by  the  enemy's  horsemen.  The 
British  advance  is  now  between  Scott  and  the  retreating 
troops  with  Lee  and  Lafayette.  A  rapid  march  through 
the  woods  to  the  northward  alone  enables  the  former  to 

*  Fishbourne's  Testimony :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  pp.  47-8  ;  also 
Scott's,  p.  28;  and  Wayne's,  p.  21. 
f  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  440. 

%  Letter  of  Scott  and  Wayne  to  Washington  :  Ibid. 
i'Meade's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  vol.  iii.  p.  63. 
||  Letter  of  Scott  and  Wayne  to  Washington  :  Ibid.,  vol.  ii.  p.  440. 


MONMOUTH.  373 

rejoin  the  army.*  He  comes  out  into  the  large  morass,  and 
crosses  it  far  to  the  north  and  eastward  of  the  old  Presby 
terian  Church.  Meantime,  what  has  become  of  General 
Lee?  When  the  enemy  first  turned  back  in  force  he  was 
on  the  left,  watching,  with  the  intention  of  turning  their 
right  flank.  Observing  them  to  approach  in  force,  he  di 
rected  the  troops  on  the  right  to  retire  and  form  near  the 
Court-House.  Arrived  there,  and  finding  the  position  less 
strong  than  he  supposed,  he  gave  orders  to  fall  back.f 
Confusion  followed.  The  heat  was  intense.  The  men  were 
nearly  fainting  with  fatigue.  The  horses  of  the  aides-de 
camp  could  hardly  stand. {  Orders  that  were  given  were 
not  delivered,  and  orders  were  delivered  that  had  never  been 
given  by  the  General.  Contradictory  directions  made  mat 
ters  worse.  Near  Carr's  House  a  regiment  was  posted  at  a 
fence,  and  presently  withdrawn.  Du  Portail  insisted  that 
the  position  here  was  a  strong  one.  Lee  declared  that  it 
was  execrable,  and  commanded  by  an  eminence  on  the 
British  side.§  Back  the  troops  kept  falling — forming  now 
in  line,  and  the  next  minute  ordered  to  retire.  No  one 
knew  why  or  whither,  nor  did  Lee  take  pains  to  check  the 
disorder.  The  officers  were  furious,  the  men  dejected. 
There  had  been  no  fighting  to  speak  of — the  enemy  did  not 
seem  dangerously  strong — the  chance  to  fight  him  on  good 
terms  had  appeared  so  favorable ; — it  was  inexplicable.  It 
is  now  nearly  twelve  o'clock.  In  front  of  the  ravine  near 
Carr's  House  there  is  a  temporary  halt.  General  Lee  him- 

*  Cilley's  Testimony  :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  33. 

f  Lee's  Defence:  Ibid.,  p.  183. 

J  Mercer's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  Ill;  Stewart's  Testimony,  p.  40; 
Tilghman's  Testimony,  pp.  80-2. 

\  Du  Portail's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  139;  also  Lee's  Defence,  p. 
184. 


374  MONMOUTH. 

self  orders  Jackson's  Massachusetts  regiment  to  form  behind 
a  fence,  but  hardly  has  it  done  so  when  he  commands  it  to 
retire  beyond  the  ravine.*  A  part  of  Varnum's  brigade 
halts  for  ten  minutes  in  an  orchard,  but  the  enemy  coming 
on  rapidly,  they  too  retire  beyond  the  ravine.f  As  the  troops 
are  falling  back  a  countryman  rides  up  to  General  Lee.  It 
is  Peter  WikofF,  who  lives  in  the  farm-house  between  the 
Parsonage  and  Carr's.  He  knows  the  country  well — what 
can  he  do  ?  Lee  asks  him  where  there  is  a  strong  position 
to  which  the  army  can  retire.  He  points  to  the  west  and 
south.  But  there  is  an  almost  impassable  morass  in  the 
way.  It  can  be  crossed  on  logs.  Too  late  to  make  a  bridge. 
Beyond  the  causeway  then  there  are  high  hills.  Lee  urges 
him  to  ride  back  and  halt  some  regiment  on  the  ground. J 
He  gallops  off  at  speed.  All  is  disorder,  the  troops  retiring 
rapidly,  so  fagged  with  the  heat  that  many  faint.  Here 
is  Olney,  with  the  Rhode  Islanders,  crossing  the  ravine ; 
yonder,  near  Carr's  House,  is  Stewart  of  Pennsylvania, 
keeping  his  panting  men  together  ;§  the  gallant  Ramsey  is 
close  at  hand  ;||  Maxwell  has  crossed  the  ravine,  and  is  form 
ing  his  Jerseymen  in  the  woods  on  the  north  of  the  road  ;lf 
while  Oswald  tries  to  get  his  guns  across  the  defile.** 

All  is  in  uproar  and  confusion ;  shouts  of  go  back !  go 
back  !  drive  on !  drive  on  Iff  are  heard  above  the  din,  and 
all  the  while  the  dropping  fire  of  musketry  in  the  rear 
shows  that  the  enemy  is  close  at  hand.  Five  thousand  men 

*  Jackson's  Testimony :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  124. 

f  Olney's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  127. 

$  Wikoff's  Deposition  :  Ibid.,  pp.  172-3. 

$  Stewart's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  p.  40. 

j|  Oswald's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  136. 

i  Maxwell's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  p.  92. 
**  Oswald's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  135. 
ff  Jackson's  Testimony  :  Ibid.,  p.  124  ;  also  Ogden's,  p.  134. 


MONMOUTH.  375 

have  fallen  back  in  disorder  nearly  two  miles,  in  the  face 
of  a  constant  and  vigorous  pursuit.  It  is  extraordinary 
that  there  is  no  panic.  But  both  men  and  officers  are  too 
angry  to  be  frightened ;  there  is  no  breaking  of  the  ranks ; 
no  running  among  the  troops — it  is  a  sullen  retreat.  The 
men  halt  at  the  first  order,  form  like  veterans,  and  only  re 
tire  when  commanded  to  do  so.  Some  faint  with  heat  and 
fall.  All  are  panting  for  water — the  sweat  streaming  from 
them,  their  tongues  dry  and  swollen,  their  faces  flushed, 
their  eyes  bloodshot.  The  horses  are  completely  broken 
down.  Many  refuse  to  carry  their  riders,  and  half  of  the 
officers  are  on  foot.  And  so  through  the  hot  wood  and  be 
neath  the  blazing  sun,  down  one  side  of  the  ravine  and  up 
the  other,  the  reginlents  of  Lee's  command  fall  back  in  dis 
order  along  the  road  and  through  the  fields  of  Wikoff  '& 
farm,  towards  the  long  causeway  across  the  wide  morass,  on 
the  way  to  Englishtown. 

The  day  that  promised  so  well  has  begun  in  disaster. 
The  Americans  are  in  full  retreat  without  a  fight.  Gray- 
son's  Marylanders  and  Patton's  North  Carolinians  are  about 
to  cross  the  causeway — a  part  of  Jackson's  Massachusetts 
regiment,  under  Lieutenant- Colonel  Smith,  are  close  behind 
them.  Ogden's  and  Shreve's  Jerseymen  are  descending  the 
hill — the  heights  are  covered  with  the  retreating  regiments. 
When  suddenly  down  the  western  hill,  toward  the  cause 
way,  come  at  full  speed  two  horsemen.  They  are  Fitzgerald 
and  Harrison,  of  the  Commander-iii-Chief  '&  staff.*  Riding 
with  him,  near  the  Presbyterian  Church,  they  have  met  a 
countryman  on  horseback.  He  has  come,  he  says,  from  near 
the  Court-House,  and  has  heard  that  our  people  were  retreat 
ing.  General  Washington  refuses  to  believe  him,  for  he 

*  Tilghman's  Testimony :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  80. 


376  MONMOUTH. 

has  heard  no  sound  except  a  few  discharges  of  cannon  more 
than  an  hour  before.  The  man  points  to  a  fifer,  who  has 
come  up  breathless.  Yes,  says  the  fifer,  in  affright,  the 
Continental  troops  are  in  retreat.  Vexed  at  the  story,  which 
he  cannot  believe,  the  General  orders  the  man  into  a  light 
horseman's  charge  and  hurries  forward.*  Fifty  paces  down 
the  road  he  meets  some  stragglers — one  of  them  has  come 
from  the  army.  All  the  troops,  he  says,  are  falling  back. 
The  thing  looks  serious,  but  still  the  General  will  not  be 
lieve  it  true.  He  sends  Harrison  and  Fitzgerald  forward  to 
ascertain  the  facts.  As  they  descend  the  hill  they  encounter 
Grayson's  men.  Captain  Jones  declares  that  the  troops  be 
hind  are  in  the  same  condition  as  his  own.f  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Parke's  men  are  in  disorder. J  William  Smith,  of 
Jackson's  regiment,  cannot  imagine  why  they  have  retreated ; 
he  has  lost  but  a  single  man.§  Beyond  the  causeway  is 
Aaron  Ogden,  "  exceedingly  exasperated,"  declaring  with 
an  oath  that  "  the  troops  are  fleeing  from  a  shadow."  || 
Shreve,  of  the  next  Jersey  regiment,  smiles  bitterly;  he 
has  retreated  by  order,  but  he  knows  not  why.  Rhea,  his 
lieutenant-colonel,  cannot  understand  it,  nor  where  to  go.T 
Howell,  his  major,  has  never  seen  the  like  ;**  and  on  the 
height  General  Maxwell  confesses  that  he  is  wholly  in  the 
dark.ff  The  aides  push  on  toward  Carr's  House.  Here  Mer 
cer,  of  Lee's  staff,  says  with  warmth  to  Harrison,  that  if  he 
will  ride  to  the  Court-House  he  will  find  reason  enough  in 
the  numbers  of  the  enemy ; JJ  but  Wayne  declares  that  it  is 

*  Harrison's  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  72;  also  Tilgh 
man's,  p.  78. 

f  Harrison's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  p.  72. 

J  Ibid.  g  Ibid.,  p.  73.  ||  Ibid.  fl  Ibid. 

**  Tilghman's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  80. 
ft  Harrison's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  73.  Jt  Ibid. 


MONMOUTH.  377 

impossible  to  tell  the  cause  of  the  retreat,  for  a  very  select 
body  of  men  have  this  clay  been  drawn  off  from  troops  far 
inferior  in  number.*  And  all  this  while  General  Lee  sits 
for  twenty  minutes  by  a  fence,  without  giving  an  order  or 
making  an  attempt  to  stop  the  enemy. f  One  of  the  French 
engineers  comes  to  Fitzgerald — the  ground  he  thinks  very 
advantageous  for  stopping  the  enemy;  he  begs  for  two 
pieces  of  cannon.  Oswald  has  but  four  pieces  left,  the 
others  have  retreated  with  their  brigades,  and  his  men  are 
so  fatigued  with  heat  that  they  are  dropping  beside  the  guns. 
But  he  will  post  them  here,  and  open  on  the  enemy  as  they 
approach  from  the  village.J  On  come  the  British  through 
the  open  fields,  in  perfect  order,  marching  in  two  columns, 
their  artillery  and  horse  between  them,  and  Lee  retires  has 
tily  with  some  scattered  troops  beyond  the  ravine.  They 
are  within  quarter  of  a  mile — the  American  rear  just 
crossing  the  ravine.  The  case  is  desperate.  "The  most 
sanguine  hope,"  says  young  Laurens,  who  has  seen  it  all, 
"  scarcely  extends  ...  to  an  orderly  retreat."§  It  is  an  awful 
moment  for  America.  Was  it  for  this  that  these  gallant 
fellows  bore  the  dull  tortures  of  the  winter?  Was  it  for 
this  that  they  have  trudged  through  pouring  rain  and 
torrid  sun — now  ankle-deep  in  mud  and  now  with  their 
feet  buried  in  the  burning  sand?  Was  it  for  this  that 
they  have  covered  Charles  Lee  with  confidence  and  honor, 
and  gone  forth  under  him  from  happy  homes  to  meet  the 
proudest  army  in  the  world  ? 

But  see  yonder  in  the  west — beyond  the  long  causeway 
the  troops  have  stopped  retreating !     Grayson  and  Patton 

*  Harrison's  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  74. 

f  Meade's  Testimony  :  Ibid.,  p.  64. 

J  Oswald's  Testimony  :  Ibid.,  pp.  135-6. 

I  Ibid.,  vol.  ii.  p.  450. 

25 


378  MONMOUTH. 

have  halted  half-way  up ;  on  this  edge  of  the  morass 
Ogden  and  Shreve  are  falling  into  line,*  and  on  the  crest 
of  the  distant  hill  are  the  heads  of  columns,  apparently 
advancing.  There  is  a  sudden  halt  as  down  the  hill  dashes 
a  tall  horseman.  A  group  of  officers  try  to  follow,  but  he 
rides  too  fast.  Over  the  bridge  and  up  the  road  he  rushes 
like  the  wind,  his  horse  in  a  lather  of  sweat  as  he  drives 
the  rowels  in.  Up  the  hill  he  comes  as  fast  as  his  horse 
can  run,  his  manly  figure  and  perfect  horsemanship  com 
manding  admiration ;  his  face  flushed  with  excitement,  his 
lips  compressed,  his  often  languid  eye  flashing  an  angry 
fire,  his  usually  white  brow  as  black  as  night.  See  him  as 
he  dashes  through  the  lines — great  as  he  is,  never  greater 
than  to-day — checking  the  retreat  by  his  very  presence, 
arresting  disaster  by  a  glance,  and  in  an  instant  changing 
defeat  to  victory !  On  a  sudden  he  reins  his  foaming  horse, 
and  Washington  and  Lee  are  face  to  face.  As  it  was  three- 
and-twenty  years  ago,  it  is  to-day;  as  on  the  banks  of 
Monongahela  so  on  the  heights  of  Freehold.  It  is  the 
Englishman  that  shall  be  beaten  and  the  American  that  shall 
cover  his  retreat ;  it  is  the  Regular  that  shall  run  and  the 
Provincial  that  shall  stand  his  ground ;  it  is  Lee  that  shall 
lose  the  day ;  it  is  Washington  that  shall  save  the  army ! 
And  what  a  contrast ! — the  one  thin  as  a  skeleton,  his  feat 
ures  plain,  his  eyes  prominent,  his  nose  enormous,  his  whole 
appearance  singular  and  unprepossessing ;  the  other  broad, 
with  an  open  countenance  and  manly  air,  his  figure  that  of 
an  accomplished  gentleman,  his  gestures  graceful,  his  pres 
ence  strangely  commanding  and  impressive.  They  are  al 
most  the  same  age,  but  Lee  looks  old  and  wrinkled,  while 
Washington  appears  in  the  prime  of  unusual  health  and 

*  Tilghman's  Testimony:  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  pp.  80-1. 


MONMOUTH.  379 

vigor.  And  thus  for  the  last  time  they  sit  looking  at  each 
other.  But  for  a  moment  only,  for  the  indignation  of 
Washington  has  burst  restraint.  a  What,  sir,  is  the  mean 
ing  of  all  this  ?"  he  asks,  in  a  tone  of  thunder.  "  Sir,  sir," 
stammers  the  other,  and  is  dumb.  "  I  desire  to  know,  sir, 
the  meaning  of  this  disorder  and  confusion/7  repeats  Wash 
ington,  his  aspect  in  his  anger  really  terrible  to  see.  Lee 
answers  confusedly — his  orders  have  been  misunderstood 
or  disobeyed,  particularly  by  General  Scott.  He  did  not 
choose  to  beard  the  whole  British  army  with  troops  in  that 
condition,  and  finally  that  the  whole  thing  was  against  his 
opinion.  "  Whatever  your  opinion  may  have  been,  sir,  I 
expected  my  orders  to  have  been  obeyed."  "  These  men 
cannot  face  the  British  grenadiers."  "They  can,"  cried 
Washington,  as  he  spurred  away — "  they  can  do  it,  and  they 
shall  !"*  Indeed  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  Harri 
son  comes  up  from  Carr's  House  with  the  news  that  the 
enemy  are  but  fifteen  minutes  off,  in  great  strength,  ap 
proaching  rapidly. f  Washington  hurriedly  examines  the 
ground  as  Tilghman  goes  for  Lieutenant-Colonel  Rhea,  who 
knows  it  well.J  It  seems  fit  to  make  a  stand  upon,  and  the 
British  must  be  stopped  till  the  main  army  can  be  formed. 
Yonder  are  Walter  Stewart  and  Nathaniel  Eamsey  coming 
out  of  the  ravine.  The  General  hastens  to  them.  On 
them,  he  says,  he  shall  depend  to  give  the  enemy  a  check  ;§ 
and  under  Wayne's  eye,  who  arrives  at  the  moment,  the 
two  regiments  are  formed  in  the  woods  on  the  left.||  Wash- 

*  This  account  of  the  meeting  of  Washington  and  Lee  is  gathered 
from  the  following  authorities :  Meade's  Testimony,  Lee  Papers,  vol. 
iii.  p.  64 ;  also  McHenry's,  p.  78  ;  Tilghman' s,  p.  81 ;  Lee's  Defence, 
p.  191  ;  Papers  relating  to  the  Maryland  Line  ('76  Soc.  Pub.),  p.  104. 

f  Tilghman' s  Testimony  :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  81.         J  Ibid. 

|  Harrison's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  p.  75.     ||  Ibid. ;  also  Wayne's,  p.  22. 


380  MONMOUTH. 

ington  calls  for  artillery.  Oswald's  pieces  have  gone  by. 
He  orders  them  back  at  once  and  posts  them  on  the 
right,*  with  Livingston's  regiment  to  support  them.f  By 
this  time  the  British  have  entered  the  wood  in  front  of 
Stewart  and  Ramsey;  their  guns  open  from  the  centre 
and  their  cavalry  are  beginning  to  traverse  the  ravine. 
The  Battle  of  Monmouth  has  begun.  Having  made 
this  hurried  disposition  of  his  troops,  Washington  hastens 
to  the  right.  Here,  close  to  Oswald's  cannon,  Lee  and 
stout  Henry  Knox  are  watching  the  movements  of  the 
British.  "Will  you  command  here,  or  shall  I?"  the 
Chief  demands  of  Lee.  "If  you  will,  I  will  go  to  the 
rear  and  form  the  army."  i(  I  will,"  is  the  answer,  "and 
will  be  one  of  the  last  men  off  the  field."!  With  a 
word  to  Knox  for  more  artillery,  Washington  gallops  to 
the  rear.  The  sharp  fire  of  musketry  on  the  left,  with 
the  skilful  practice  of  Oswald's  cannoneers,  have  checked 
pursuit.  The  British  halt  and  bring  their  guns  to  the 
front.  A  precious  ten  minutes  has  been  gained.  Mean 
time,  in  the  rear,  the  army  is  coming  up.  The  General  is 
already  across  the  causeway  and  is  forming  the  men  rapidly 
upon  the  height.  It  is  a  splendid  position,  the  hills  in 
semicircle  rising  steeply  from  the  marsh  in  front,  which 
can  only  be  crossed  by  the  narrow  causeway.  Greene  is  on 
the  right,  Stirling  well  posted  on  the  left;  the  practised  eye 
of  Steuben  places  the  cannon  skilfully,  while  Lafayette,  011 
the  crest  of  the  ridge,  commands  the  second  line.  The 
Frenchman,  Duplessis  de  Manduit,  is  sent  with  six  pieces 
to  Comb's  Hill,  more  than  half  a  mile  on  the  extreme  right, 

*  Fitzgerald's  Testimony :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  pp.  69,  70. 
f  Mercer's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  p.  113. 

J  Hamilton's  Testimony :  Ibid.,  p.  59  ;  also  Knox's,  p.  156  ;  Shaw's, 
p.  159 ;  Mercer's,  p.  113. 


MONMOUTH.  381 

whence  he  can  enfilade  the  enemy  as  they  advance.*  The 
troops  move  into  place  with  the  precision  of  trained  soldiers, 
better  even,  says  Hamilton,  who  watches  them,  than  the 
British  themselves  ;f  the  guns  are  posted,  and  it  is  just  in 
time.  For  the  light-horse  have  crossed  the  ravine  and 
threaten  Oswald's  guns,  and  on  the  left  Stewart  and 
Ramsey's  men  come  slowly  out  of  the  woods  fighting  inch 
by  inch,  Americans  and  British  mixed  up  together  as  they 
come.J  By  Knox's  order  Oswald  falls  back  a  hundred 
yards,  repeatedly  unlimbering  his  guns  and  firing  as  he 
retreats.  The  crackling  of  the  musketry  is  heavy,  like  a 
thousand  bonfires,  and  every  now  and  then  a  discharge  from 
the  artillery  checks  the  red-coats  and  throws  them  into 
confusion.  WikofPs  fields  are  spotted  with  dead  men ; 
brave  Ramsey  is  down  wounded  and  a  prisoner  ;§  Fitzgerald 
has  been  hit,  and  John  Laurens  slightly,  as  his  horse  falls 
dead  beneath  him.||  Slowly  the  Americans  recede,  and  as 
slowly  the  British  advance.  And  now  they  have  reached 
the  line  between  the  Wikoff  and  the  Tennent  farms — a  fence 
grown  up  with  weeds  and  bushes  and  small  trees  that  runs 
right  across  the  line  of  the  retreat.  A  small  man  rides  up 
to  Olney,  who  commands  Varnum's  brigade,  and  points  to 
the  hedge-row.Tf  He  is  a  youth  of  two-and-twenty,  with 
sharp  features  and  a  brilliant  eye.  His  manner  is  earnest, 
and  he  speaks  with  an  authority  far  beyond  his  years.  It 
is  Lieutenant-Colonel  Alexander  Hamilton.  The  Rhode 

*  Barber  and  Howe's  Historical  Collection  of  New  Jersey,  p.  337. 
f  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  470. 
J  Mercer's  Testimony:  Ibid.,  vol.  iii.  p.  J13. 
$  Life  of  Knox,  p.  57. 

||  Correspondence  of  John  Laurens,  p.  197. 

1f  Hamilton's  Testimony :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  60  ;  also  Olney's, 
p.  127. 


382  MONMOUTH. 

Islanders  throw  themselves  behind  the  hedge-row,*  while 
Knox,  without  a  minute's  delay,  posts  two  guns  on  a  little 
knoll  a  few  paces  in  the  rear.  The  British  are  within  a 
dozen  rods,  advancing  to  the  charge.  A  volley  cracks  from 
the  hedge-row,  and  the  guns  behind  open  at  short  range. 
The  enemy  recoils;  the  infantry  give  place  to  the  light- 
horsemen,  who  charge  up  within  forty  yards,  but  are  driven 
back  with  heavy  loss.  On  come  the  foot  again,  when  sud 
denly  the  guns  of  Duplessis  on  Comb's  Hill  open  a  cross 
fire  upon  the  right,  and  they  stagger  and  fall  back.  The 
hedge-row  is  still  held — the  field  in  front  strewn  with  dead, 
the  rattle  of  musketry  is  incessant,  the  cannon  shake  the 
very  earth.  But  the  left  is  turned — Olney's  men  have  be 
gun  to  fall  behind  the  hedge — Hamilton  is  down,  his  horse 
shot  dead,  but  he  gathers  himself  up,  bruised  and  hurt.f 
The  enemy  have  the  woods  on  the  left — their  cavalry  are 
threatening  the  right — their  front  line  is  nearly  at  the  hedge 
— they  outnumber  the  Rhode  Islanders  ten  to  one.  Knox 
withdraws  the  guns;  the  Continentals  leave  the  hedge-row; 
and,  covered  by  the  heavy  cannonade  from  the  hills  in  the 
rear,  the  whole  body  descends  in  pretty  good  order  and 
crosses  the  long  causeway.J  It  is  after  two  o'clock.  The 
British  are  masters  of  the  woods  on  the  right  and  the  open 
fields  up  to  the  hedge-row. 

But  where  is  Wayne  ?  The  old  Tennent  Parsonage  and 
barn  lie  in  a  hollow  about  a  hundred  yards  westward  of 
the  hedge-row.  Behind  them  ascends  a  ridge,  which  pres 
ently  falls  rapidly  to  the  morass  in  front  of  Greene.  Here 
in  an  orchard  behind  the  barn  and  Parsonage,  about  three 
hundred  yards  in  advance  of  the  main  army,  Wayne  awaits 

*  Knox's  Testimony :  Lee  Papers,  vol.  iii.  p.  158. 
f  Hamilton's  Testimony  :  Ibid.,  p.  61. 
J  Olney's  Testimony  :  Ibid.,  p.  128. 


MONMOUTH.  383 

attack.*  He  has  a  few  hundred  Pennsylvanians  under  Wil 
liam  Irvine  and  Thomas  Craig,  a  Virginia  regiment,  and 
several  pieces  of  artillery.  Clinton  has  now  brought  up  the 
flower  of  his  army,  and  while  his  batteries  engage  the  Amer 
icans  on  the  distant  heights  he  orders  the  grenadiers  to  dis 
lodge  Wayne.  In  splendid  array  his  veterans  advance, 
their  scarlet  coats  in  perfect  line,  their  bayonets  gleaming  in 
the  sunshine.  Down  they  come  toward  the  exposed  position 
where  the  Pennsylvanians  lie.  A  terrific  fire  opens  on  them, 
and  they  stagger  and  fall  back.  They  rally,  reform,  and 
advance  again  to  the  attack.  A  second  volley  greets  them, 
and  they  are  driven  back  blinded  and  broken  toward  the 
cover  of  the  woods.  And  all  the  while  the  cannon  on  both 
sides  is  thundering  away.  Daniel  Morgan  hears  it  yonder  at 
Shumais  Mills.f  He  has  sent  to  Lee  for  orders,  but  can  get 
none,  and  there,  useless,  he  passes  the  long  afternoon  pacing 
like  a  lion  in  a  cage.  Clinton  now  tries  to  turn  the  left. 
The  Highlanders  attack  Lord  Stirling  furiously,  but  his 
batteries  check  them,  and  his  infantry  advance  and  drive 
them  back.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Aaron  Burr  pursues  them 
into  the  meadow,  but  an  order  halts  him  in  the  open  ground ; 
his  brigade  suffers  heavily — his  horse  is  shot,  and  Rudolph 
Bunner,  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  Pennsylvania  line,  is 
killed.  J  Attempting  to  turn,  the  right  meets  with  no  better 

*  The  authorities  for  placing  Wayne  at  the  Parsonage  with  Penn 
sylvania  and  Virginia  troops,  are  Langworthy's  Memoir  of  Lee,  p. 
17  ;  Kapp's  Life  of  Steuben,  p.  161  ;  Wayne's  Letters,  vide  Lee 
Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  448,  vol.  iii.  p.  241 ;  Clark's  Letter  to  Lee,  ibid., 
p.  232 ;  and  Letters  of  General  William  Irvine,  Pennsylvania  Maga 
zine,  vol.  ii.  pp.  147-8.  In  the  first  of  Wayne's  letters  referred  to 
he  says,  "Pennsylvania  showed  the  Road  to  Victory." 

f  Graham's  Life  of  Morgan,  p.  211. 

$  Davis's  Memoirs  of  Burr,  vol.  i.  pp.  127-8. 


384  MONMOUTH. 

fate.     Wayne  must  be  driven  from  his  ground  or  the  King's 
army  must  retire. 

On  the  ridge,  behind  the  orchard,  Wayne  has  two  cannon 
posted.  Their  fire  is  most  effective,  but  the  men  who  serve 
them  are  fearfully  exposed,  and  have  fallen  one  by  one; 
they  are  worked  now  with  half  the  requisite  force,  and  still 
the  men  are  dropping.  Suddenly  as  the  British  approach, 
a  matross  in  the  act  of  ramming  the  charge  throws  up  his 
arms  and  falls  headlong  to  the  ground.  The  gun  is  useless 
and  must  be  withdrawn,  for  there  is  none  to  take  his  place. 
Aye,  but  there  is,  for,  yonder,  rushing  to  the  front,  behold 
a  woman  !  The  wife  of  the  fallen  matross,  she  has  been  to 
the  creek  for  water  to  keep  the  sponge  wet.  Seeing  her 
husband  fall,  she  dashes  forward,  snatches  up  the  rammer, 
and  drives  it  home  with  the  vigor  of  a  veteran.  A  moment 
and  the  priming  is  ready — another,  and  the  gun  belches 
forth  in  the  very  faces  of  the  British.  There  she  stands, 
black  with  powder,  in  the  blinding  smoke,  the  shot  raining 
about  her,  the  dead  and  wounded  at  her  feet,  plying  the 
rammer  with  a  furious  energy,  and  keeping  that  heated 
gun  busy  at  its  deadly  work !  And  there  in  the  midst  of 
that  conflict,  the  figure  of  Molly  Pitcher,  the  woman  can 
noneer  of  Monmouth,  goes  down  to  history.  But  see,  Sir 
Henry  is  ready  for  his  final  effort.  From  the  woods  on  the 
northeast,  across  the  open  ground  before  the  hedge-row,  in 
the  face  of  a  heavy  cannonade  from  the  Americans  on 
Comb's  Hill,  the  grenadiers  advance.  Veterans  of  many 
a  well-won  field,  they  move  steadily  to  the  attack.  The 
picked  men  of  the  Royal  army,  perfect  in  equipment  and 
in  the  practice  of  arms,  and  never  more  magnificent  or 
better  handled  than  to-day,  they  sweep  onward  toward 
the  little  Parsonage  and  barn.  It  is  a  moment  of  dread 
ful  suspense  to  the  patriots  upon  the  heights.  Surely 


MONMOUTH.  385 

the  Pennsylvanians  will  be  swept  like  chaff  before  them. 
Nearer  and  nearer  they  come,  in  "magnificently  stern  array" 
of  glowing  scarlet  and  glittering  steel,  their  bayonets  fixed, 
advancing  silently  without  a  shot,  while  the  cannon  on 
the  distant  hills  shakes  the  earth  beneath  their  feet.  Who 
is  there  to  resist  them  ?  A  few  hundred  Pennsylvanians 
drawn  up  in  a  little  orchard  and  behind  a  wooden  barn 
and  farm-house — a  handful  of  yeomen  in  their  shirt-sleeves, 
armed  with  old-fashioned  muskets,  awaiting  the  charge  of 
the  British  grenadiers.  The  odds  against  the  Americans 
are  fearful,  as  the  well-trained  enemy  sweeps  down.  But 
not  a  man  among  them  moves.  Somewhere  in  that  orchard 
is  Anthony  Wayne  himself,  watching  the  foe  with  steady 
glance,  his  teeth  set,  his  cheek  flushed.  "  Wait/'  he  tells 
his  men,  "  till  they  are  close  at  hand,  and  then  pick  off  the 
king  birds."* 

On  comes  the  unbroken  column,  apparently  resistless,  in 
the  full  blaze  of  the  afternoon's  sun.  In  front,  in  the  splen 
did  uniform  of  a  lieutenant-colonel,  is  their  commander, 
Henry  Monckton,  the  Viscount  Galway's  son,  waving  his 
sword  and  calling  on  the  grenadiers  to  "charge."  They 
have  swept  through  the  open  field,  they  have  passed  the 
hedge-row,  they  have  begun  to  descend  the  slope  beyond, 
their  pace  quickens,  the  front  rank  has  almost  reached  the 
barn — the  whole  column  is  in  full  charge.  There  is  a 
moment  of  suspense.  And  then,  with  a  crash,  a  sheet  of 
flame  from  Parsonage  and  barn  and  fence  arid  orchard  leaps 
forth  to  meet  them,  and  in  an  instant  a  dense  cloud  of 
smoke  has  hidden  them  from  view.  A  moment  later  the 
cloud  has  broken,  and  here  and  there  glimpses  can  be  seen 

*  King's  Address.  Vide  New  Jersey  Historical  Society's  Pro 
ceedings,  vol.  iv.  p.  139. 


386  MONMOUTH. 

of  men  in  deadly  combat — red- coated  grenadiers  and  yeo 
men  in  shirt-sleeves  mixed  in  inextricable  confusion.  See 
as  the  smoke  lifts,  Wayne's  men  have  leaped  the  fence 
coatless,  their  sleeves  rolled  up,*  and  dashed  into  the  melee, 
and  yonder  in  the  hollow  of  the  field  they  are  fighting 
hand  to  hand  with  bayonet  thrust  and  clubbed  guns  over 
a  lifeless  body.  It  is  his  who  a  moment  ago  cheered  on  his 
men  to  victory — his  breast  bloody  with  wounds,  his  scarlet 
coat  stained  and  torn  as  the  fight  rages  about  him.  Now 
his  men  press  forward,  and  again  are  driven  back,  as  the 
Americans  from  barn  and  orchard  throw  themselves  head 
long  into  the  struggle.  The  cracking  of  the  musketry  is 
incessant — the  cries  of  the  combatants  can  be  heard,  and  all 
the  while,  above  the  din,  the  guns  upon  the  heights  keep  up 
"  the  heaviest  cannonading  ever  heard  in  America."  And 
now  beyond  the  rim  of  smoke  the  grenadiers  are  falling 
back  in  groups  together,  broken  and  confused.  The  Amer 
icans  have  Monckton's  body  and  are  driving  his  men  before 
them  in  retreat.  Back  up  the  sloping  field — through  the 
broken  hedge-row — across  the  open  ground — toward  the 
woods  beyond,  faster  and  faster  go  the  British — in  confused 
mass,  their  ranks  broken — their  battalions  shattered — their 
leader  killed  !  At  last — at  last — in  open  ground  and  hand 
to  hand  the  ragged  rebels  have  withstood  and  beaten  the 
British  grenadiers ! 

The  day  is  now  spent ;  the  American  position  can  neither 
be  turned  nor  taken ;  the  British  left  is  threatened,  and  the 
whole  army  cooped  up  on  the  right — there  is  nothing  for 
Clinton  to  do  but  to  retire.  Already  his  troops  have  left 
the  woods  in  front  of  Stirling — the  centre  has  repassed  the 

*  Statement  of  John  Crolius,  vide  Dawson's  Battles  of  the  Amer 
ican  Revolution,  vol.  i.  p.  409. 


MONMOUTH.  387 

ravine  in  front  of  Carr's  House — the  horsemen  have  turned 
their  backs — the  whole  army  is  retreating.  Down  from  the 
heights  come  the  Americans  in  pursuit,  and  over  the  hot 
fields  filled  with  the  bodies  of  the  dead.  The  word  goes 
back  to  Steuben  to  bring  up  fresh  men,  for  the  enemy  are 
retreating  in  confusion,  and  though  Lee,  then  at  the  rear, 
declares  that  it  cannot  be  true,  the  old  veteran  hastens  to 
obey.*  Before  he  has  arrived  the  enemy  are  strongly  posted 
on  the  ground  beyond  the  ravine,  and  it  is  nearly  seven 
o'clock.  "Washington  prepares  to  resume  the  offensive,  but 
both  sides  are  tired  out.  And  there  through  the  sultry 
twilight  the  two  armies  lie  watching  each  other,  panting  and 
exhausted,  with  only  the  defile  between  them.f  The  fields 
are  strewn  with  coats,  cartouch-boxes,  and  guns,  the  ground 
torn  up  with  shot,  the  trees  shattered  with  the  marks  of 
cannon-balls.  The  Americans  hold  the  field  of  battle,  but 
the  British  present  a  sullen  and  threatening  front.  The 
shadows  creep  out  of  the  west — the  steam  rises  from  the 
hollows — the  sun,  like  a  ball  of  fire,  has  disappeared — the 
sultry  twilight  has  faded — the  hot  night  has  begun.  The 
dead  lie  where  they  fell,  the  wounded  groan  and  gasp  for 
air — in  the  woods,  by  the  hedge-row,  in  the  marsh,  on  the 
trodden  field — and  the  tired  living  sink  on  their  arms  to 
sleep.  Poor's  sentinels,  close  to  the  enemy,  are  watching  their 
right — Woodford's  guarding  their  left.J  Beneath  a  tall  tree 
Washington  and  Lafayette,  wrapped  in  a  single  cloak,  lie 
down  to  rest.§  A  solemn  silence  has  followed  the  tumult 
of  the  day,  and  so  the  long  hours  of  the  night  pass  by. 
With  the  first  streak  of  dawn  the  men  are  under  arms. 


*  Kapp's  Life  of  Steuben,  p.  163. 

f  Correspondence  of  John  Laurens,  p.  198. 

J  Washington  to  President  of  Congress,  July  1. 

$  Lafayette's  Memoirs,  vol.  i.  p.  54. 


388  MONMOUTH. 

Poor  pushes  his  brigade  across  the  ravine,  Woodford  ad 
vances  on  the  left,  and  the  whole  army  awaits  the  signal 
for  attack.  But  still  no  sound  comes  from  the  British 
camp.  And  look,  for  the  sun  is  up,  the  fields  in  front  are 
deserted;  the  cannon  that  frowned  across  the  ravine  at 
nightfall  have  disappeared ;  the  red-coats  have  vanished  in 
the  night.  Four  of  their  officers  and  forty  men  lie  wounded 
in  their  empty  camp.  In  the  darkness,  in  the  shadows  of 
the  night,  the  Royal  army  has  stolen  away.*  The  Battle 
of  Monmouth  has  been  fought  and  won ! 

During  the  midnight  hours  Clinton  has  withdrawn  in 
stealth  to  join  his  baggage  in  the  hills  of  Middletown. 
Without  cavalry,  pursuit  is  useless.  The  British  reach 
Sandy  Hook  on  the  30th,  and  Washington  advances  to 
Brunswick  and  White  Plains. 

With  the  events  that  followed  I  have  not  to  do.  We  all 
know  the  result:  how  the  allied  attack  on  Rhode  Island  was 
a  failure,  and  how  the  British  remained  quiet  in  New  York 
until  December,  when  they  departed  to  invade  the  South. 

But  the  excitements  of  the  affair  of  Monmouth  ceased 
not  with  the  battle.  The  singular  conduct  of  General  Lee 
— his  disrespectful  letters  to  the  Commander-in-Chief — his 
trial — the  confused  and  conflicting  testimony — his  able  and 
ingenious  defence  (often  inconsistent  and  based  on  after 
thought  though  it  was) — his  conviction  and  his  sentence — 
gave  rise  to  bitter  controversy  for  years  to  come.  Many 
were  convinced  that  he  was  guilty  of  greater  offences  than 
those  with  which  he  had  been  charged;  some  held  him 
innocent,  and  even  deserving  of  high  praise.  It  is  prob 
able  that  he  was  in  some  degree  innocent,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  in  greater  measure  guilty.  It  is  clear  that  Wash- 

*  Correspondence  of  John  Laurens,  p.  198. 


MONMOUTH.  389 

ington's  order  to  attack  left  him  full  discretion.  It  is 
evident  that  an  engagement  in  the  plain  would  have  been 
unwise,  and  that  Lee's  opinion  of  the  position  near  the 
Court-House  was  a  sounder  one  than  Wayne's.  It  is  prob 
able  that  a  well-managed  retreat,  drawing  the  British  into  the 
ground  they  finally  occupied,  and  providing  for  the  main 
army  to  receive  them  there,  might  have  resulted  in  a  battle 
disastrous  to  the  enemy ;  but  nothing  before,  or  during,  or 
after  his  retreat  suggests  that  any  such  plan  had  entered 
the  mind  of  General  Lee.  He  made  no  plan  of  action  in 
advance.  He  communicated  none  to  his  brigadiers  at  any 
time.  He  withdrew  his  right  in  haste  when  the  enemy 
approached,  but  gave  his  left  no  orders.  He  fell  back  to 
Carr's  House  in  confusion,  which  he  saw  but  did  not  try 
to  check.  His  directions  to  those  about  him  were  contra 
dictory  ;  to  those  at  a  distance  he  had  none  to  give.  His 
talk  with  WikoiF  showed  that  he  thought  to  make  a  stand, 
but  knew  neither  when  nor  where  to  do  it,  and  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  he  sent  no  word  to  Washington  of 
what  was  taking  place.  It  was  his  fault  that  his  command 
acted  without  a  head ;  it  was  his  fault  that  the  enemy  had 
to  be  stopped  at  a  disadvantage  to  get  time  to  form  the 
main  army,  even  for  defence;  and  if  it  was  his  plan  to  draw 
Clinton  into  a  trap,  as  he  asserted,  and  in  the  same  breath 
denied,  in  his  defence,  he  took  no  pains  to  make  that  plan 
successful  or  avert  the  disaster,  which  every  moment,  under 
his  eyes,  threatened  to  be  more  complete  and  overwhelming. 
And  it  is  certain  that  his  subsequent  conduct  cannot  be 
excused.  His  behavior  to  Congress  was  undignified  and 
weak;  his  attacks  on  Washington  ill-natured  and  con 
temptible  ;  and  his  death — sudden  and  speedy  as  it  was — 
was  too  tardy  for  his  fame. 

The  generation  that  knew  Charles  Lee  was  too  much 


390  MONMOUTH. 

interested  in  the  events  in  which  he  was  an  actor  to  form  an 
accurate  estimate  of  his  character  or  sit  in  judgment  on  his 
life.  The  century  that  has  intervened  has  cooled  forever 
the  passions  that  stirred  the  bosoms  of  his  friends  and 
enemies.  We  can  judge  him  with  calmness  and  impar 
tiality  ;  for  to  us  he  is  simply  a  figure  in  our  early  history. 
And  we  know  him  better  than  our  fathers  did.  They  may 
have  seen  that,  like  Gates,  he  feared  the  British  grenadiers, 
and  could  not  persuade  himself  that  the  raw  levies  of  Con 
gress  could  stand  up  against  them.  They  may  have  thought 
that,  like  others  besides  Gates,  he  was  jealous  of  Washing 
ton,  and  did  not  wish  him  victory.  They  may  have  sus 
pected  that  he  was  annoyed  that  his  advice  had  been  over 
ruled,  and  did  not  wish  an  attack,  made  in  spite  of  it,  to 
be  successful.  But  they  did  not  understand,  in  the  face  of 
many  signs,  that  his  heart  was  not  in  their  struggle ;  and  they 
did  not  know,  as  we  do,  that  when  a  prisoner  in  New  York, 
on  the  25th  of  March,  1777,  this  second  in  command  of 
their  armies  had  written  and  submitted  to  the  British  gen 
eral  an  elaborate  plan  for  the  subjection  of  America.  Side 
by  side  with  that  paper,  in  Lee's  unmistakable  handwriting, 
and  endorsed  by  Howe's  secretary  "  Mr.  Lee's  Plan,"*  the 
most  elaborate  defence  of  his  conduct  here  at  Monmouth 
falls  broken  to  the  ground.  His  motives  may  have  been 
humane,  his  desire  to  prevent  bloodshed  earnest,  his  wish 
to  reunite  the  mother-country  and  the  colonies  sincere;  but 
the  act  was  that  of  a  traitor,  and  on  this  spot,  identified 
with  the  last  scene  of  his  career,  it  is  more  charitable  than 
just,  to  grant  to  a  name  and  memory  associated  with  such 
a  deed,  the  mercy  of  oblivion. 

*  Vide  Treason  of  Charles  Lee,  by  George  II.  Moore,  New  York, 
1860. 


MONMOUTH.  391- 

The  battle  of  the  28th  of  June  was  famous  for  many 
tilings.  It  was  there  that  Charles  Lee  ended  his  career. 
It  was  there  that  the  last  great  battle  of  the  war  was  fought — 
from  this  to  Yorktown  the  conflicts  were  on  a  smaller  scale. 
And  it  was  there  that  the  American  first  showed  himself  a 
finished  soldier.  Courage  he  had  exhibited  enough  already, 
but  for  the  task  which  he  had  undertaken  untrained  valor  was 
not  enough.  The  audacious  spirit  which  led  the  half-armed 
farmers  of  Massachusetts  to  seize  the  hill  beyond  Charles- 
town  neck,  at  night,  and  throw  up  a  rude  breastwork  within 
half  a  cannon-shot  of  a  British  fleet  and  army — the  head 
long  daring  of  Arnold  at  Quebec  and  Behmus's  Heights 
— the  splendid  gallantry  of  Christopher  Greene  behind 
the  intrenchments  at  Red  Bank — the  intrepidity  of  Wayne 
leading  his  forlorn  hope  up  the  heights  of  Stony  Point — the 
rash  valor  of  Ethan  Allen  in  the  gates  of  Ticonderoga — 
the  reckless  bravery  of  Sergeant  Jasper  on  the  ramparts  of 
Fort  Moultrie,  were  but  examples  of  an  almost  universal 
courage.  But  even  this,  splendid  as  it  was,  would  not  have 
availed  alone  through  seven  years  of  constant  and  often 
disastrous  fighting.  It  was  the  calm  and  reflecting  courage 
of  the  soldier  trained  in  the  school  of  trial — that  could  fall 
back  without  disorder,  retreat  without  panic,  endure  suffer 
ing  without  a  murmur,  and  bear  defeat  with  patience.  It 
was  the  long  suffering  of  Valley  Forge  bearing  its  fruit  in 
the  veteran-like  courage  of  Monmouth,  that  saved  Civil 
Liberty  for  both  continents  alike. 

And  never  were  the  soldierly  qualities  of  Washington 
displayed  more  brilliantly  than  here.  "  I  never  saw  the 
general  to  so  much  advantage,"  wrote  Hamilton  to  Boudi- 
not;  "his  coolness  and  firmness  were  admirable."*  "His 


*  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  469. 


392  MONMOUTH. 

presence  stopped  the  retreat/'  said  Lafayette ;  "  his  dispo 
sitions  fixed  the  victory — his  fine  appearance  on  horseback, 
his  calm  courage,  roused  to  animation  by  the  vexations  of 
the  morning,  gave  him  an  air  best  calculated  to  arouse  en 
thusiasm."*  The  general  voice  of  his  countrymen  confirmed 
the  judgment  of  Hamilton  when  he  wrote :  "  America  owes 
a  great  deal  to  General  Washington  for  this  day's  work — 
a  general  rout,  dismay,  and  disgrace  would  have  attended 
the  whole  army  in  any  other  hands  but  his."f 

From  this  time  forward  there  was  no  longer  question  who 
should  be  Commander-in- Chief.  One  after  another  his 
enemies  disappeared — Lee  was  suspended  from  command, 
Conway  returned  to  France,  Mifflin  left  the  service.  Gates 
was  overthrown  at  Camden.  It  was  he  alone  who  had  kept 
the  army  together  at  Valley  Forge — it  was  he  alone  who 
had  saved  the  day  at  Monmouth — it  is  he  alone  that  shall 
win  the  liberties  of  this  struggling  people.  Soldier  and 
statesman,  for  five-and-twenty  years  the  central  figure  in  his 
country's  history,  he  shall  appear  to  posterity  as  he  did  to 
Lafayette  that  day,  who  thought,  as  he  watched  the  splendid 
figure  dashing  along  the  forming  lines,  that  never  before 
or  since  had  he  beheld  "  so  superb  a  man.^J  The  aifair  of 
Monmouth  was  in  some  respects  a  drawn  battle.  The  re 
port  which  Clinton  wrote  conveyed  the  idea  that  he  had 
accomplished  all  he  wished — beaten  the  provincials  and 
continued  on  his  way  to  take  advantage  of  the  moonlight, 
although  the  fact  was,  that  the  moon  on  that  night  was  but 
four  days  old.  Many  in  England  recognized  the  truth 
about  the  battle,  for  we  find  Horace  Walpole  writing  shortly 
afterwards,  "  The  undisciplined  courtiers  speak  of  it  in 

*  Memoirs  of  Lafayette,  vol.  i.  p.  34,  foot-note.     Bruxelles,  1837. 

f  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  470. 

J  Recollections  of  Geo.  W.  P.  Custis,  p.  221. 


MONMOUTH.  393 

most  dismal  terms."  "If  I  guess  right,  Washington  was 
ill  served,  and  thence,  and  by  the  violent  heats,  could  not 
effect  all  his  purposes;  but  an  army  on  a  march  through 
a  hostile  country  that  is  twice  beaten  back — which  is 
owned — whose  men  drop  down  with  heat,  have  no  hos 
pitals,  and  were  hurrying  to  a  place  of  security,  must  have 
lost  more  than  three  hundred  and  eighty  men  ;"*  and  he 
adds  later,  with  a  sneer,  "  The  Royal  army  has  gained  an 
escape."f  But  the  Americans  claimed  it  with  enthusiasm 
as  a  victory.  It  was  true  that  the  enemy  had  escaped.  It 
was  true  that  the  fruits  belonged  rather  to  Clinton  than  to 
Washington,  for  the  purpose  of  the  one  had  failed,  and  that 
of  the  other  been  accomplished.  But  it  was  evident  to  all 
men  that  the  days  of  the  superiority  of  the  British  army 
were  over.  The  Continentals  had  encountered  the  gren 
adiers  in  the  open  field,  and  under  disastrous  circumstances, 
and  had  withstood  and  even  repulsed  them.  After  a  whole 
day's  fighting  it  had  been  the  British  who  fell  back,  and 
the  Americans  who  kept  the  field — and  this  time  it  had 
been  the  Rebels  who  had  wished  to  renew  the  battle,  and 
the  Regulars  who  had  refused  it.  The  fact  that  the  enemy 
had  escaped  made  little  difference  to  the  enthusiastic  Amer 
icans.  He  had  been  beaten  fairly,  and  that  was  glory 
enough.  The  Congress  was  in  ecstasy — the  Whigs  jubilant. 
Wrote  Washington  himself,  "From  an  unfortunate  and 
bad  beginning  it  turned  out  a  glorious  and  happy  day."J 
"  The  behavior  of  the  officers  and  men  in  general  was  such 
as  could  not  easily  be  surpassed.  Our  troops,  after  the 
first  impulse  from  mismanagement,  behaved  with  more 

*  Walpole  to  Rev.  Wra.  Mason,  August  14,  1778.     Vide  Corre 
spondence,  vol.  ii.  p.  13. 

f  Walpole  to  Sir  II.  Mann.     Ibid.,  vol.  iii.  p.  96. 
£  Washington  to  his  Brother :  Sparks,  vol.  v.  p.  43] . 

26 


394  MONMOUTH. 

spirit  and  moved  with  greater  order  than  the  British 
troops/7  were  the  words  of  Hamilton.  Said  General  Wil 
liam  Irvine,  "  It  was  a  most  glorious  day  for  the  American 
arms."*  "Indeed/7  wrote  Knox,  "it  is  very  splendid. 
The  capital  army  of  Britain  defeated  and  obliged  to  retreat 
before  the  Americans,  whom  they  despised  so  much." 
"  The  effects  of  the  battle  will  be  great  and  lasting.  It 
will  convince  the  enemy  that  nothing  but  a  good  consti 
tution  is  wanting  to  render  our  army  equal  to  any  in  the 
world." f  As  for  Wayne,  whose  "good  conduct  and  bravery/7 
in  the  words  of  Washington,  "  deserve  particular  commen 
dation/7  J  he  could  not  contain  himself.  "  Tell  those  Phila 
delphia  ladies/7  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  who  attended  Howe7s 
assemblies  and  levees,  that  the  heavenly,  sweet,  pretty  red 
coats,  the  accomplished  gentlemen  of  the  guards  and  gren 
adiers,  have  been  humbled  on  the  plains  of  Monmouth. 
The  Knights  of  the  Blended  Roses  and  of  the  Burning 
Mount  have  resigned  their  laurels  to  rebel  officers,  who 
will  lay  them  at  the  feet  of  those  virtuous  daughters  of 
America,  who  cheerfully  gave  up  ease  and  affluence  in  a 
city  for  liberty  and  peace  of  mind  in  a  cottage.77§ 

Such,  my  countrymen,  is  the  history  of  this  famous  fight. 
The  years  that  have  gone  by  have  left  no  trace  of  it  upon 
your  soil.  The  fields  are  changed,  the  morass  has  become 
a  pleasant  meadow,  the  woods  have  fallen,  the  ancient  Par 
sonage  has  gone.  And  they  who  struggled  here,  grenadier 
and  Continental,  veteran  in  scarlet  and  yeoman  in  rags, 
have  all  passed  away  forever ;  they  who  fought  against  us 
and  they  who  fought  to  make  us  free,  old  and  young  alike, 

*  Hamilton  to  Boudinot.     Vide  Lee  Papers,  vol.  ii.  p.  470. 

f  Life  of  Knox,  pp.  57-9. 

J  Washington  to  President  of  Congress,  July  1. 

%  Moore's  Life  of  Wayne,  pp.  64-5. 


MON MOUTH.  395 

great  man  and  humble,  he  whose  fitting  sepulchre  is  his 
country's  heart  and  they  who,  in  unmarked  graves  in  yonder 
field,  have  long  since  mouldered  into  dust — the  nameless 
dead,  who  died  for  you  and  me.  Father,  son,  and  grand 
child,  they  have  descended  to  the  grave,  and  of  all  that 
knew  and  loved  them  in  their  prime,  not  one  survives. 
The  peaceful  plough  passing  through  your  fields  may  un 
cover  rusted  ball,  or  broken  bayonet,  or  mouldering  skull, 
or  crumbling  skeleton.  But  the  wild  fury  of  the  fight  has 
gone ;  the  struggling  host  has  vanished ;  the  loud-mouthed 
cannon  are  forever  dumb.  Another  sound  is  rising  in  the 
land.  It  comes  from  town  and  hamlet,  from  marts  of  com 
merce  and  from  haunts  of  trade,  from  workshop  and  from 
forge,  from  field  and  mine,  from  forest,  hill,  and  stream. 
It  tells  of  joy  and  gladness,  of  content  and  peace,  of  well- 
stored  granaries  and  happy  homes.  It  tells  of  a  people 
virtuous  and  free,  a  government  rooted  in  the  hearts  of 
men.  It  is  a  nation's  prayer,  a  people's  cry,  a  song  of 
Hope  and  Prophecy. 

And  from  these  hills  to-day  a  voice  goes  forth  to  meet 
it.  Americans,  it  seems  to  say,  as  with  your  fathers  shall  it 
be  with  you.  Faith,  Courage,  Fortitude,  Virtue,  and  Love 
of  Country  can  win  you  battles  now  as  well  as  then.  Defeat 
may  still  lead  the  way  to  Victory  and  suffering  to  Happiness. 
And  when  the  night  cometh  and  the  shadows  fall,  remember 
that  the  sun  that  went  down  at  Valley  Forge  was  the  same 
that  arose  above  the  Heights  of  Freehold. 


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Hoppin,  J.M. 

Memoir  of  Henry 
Armitt  Brown. 


